


Higher Love

by ashflower



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (light) angst, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, Love Triangles, OR IS IT, Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life, Unrequited Love, it ain't a comedy if there aren't any tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashflower/pseuds/ashflower
Summary: It started with a letter—one that came with no previous warning but still had the potential to ruin everything that you had known and would ever come to know.The day that you received it, your life had turned upside down. What was once an average, peaceful life had you diving head-first into chaos. Really, all that you wanted to do was graduate and retire on your family’s countryside farm to take care of an animal or two. Animals were always easier to deal with than human beings, you see.Then again, life was never that simple. And—you just had to make it more complicated by falling for someone that you shouldn’t have.[Sylvain/F!Reader/Felix]
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Reader, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Reader
Comments: 163
Kudos: 465





	1. First of Her Name

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not appreciate nor do I consent to my works being lifted without credit and/or permission. If you feel inspired by my writing, then please give me a heads up and we can discuss on how you may proceed. Otherwise, do NOT lift direct lines and references from my works.**
> 
> Set primarily during and at the academy. Some spoilers for the Blue Lions route towards the middle-end.

For all of the stories regarding the academy, you still thought of it as any other school. It couldn’t be helped; you really didn’t have any ambitions. To you, the academy was simply a place to learn. You would study in your young adult years and graduate with a formal education. Then, after graduation, you would probably go to work on your family’s countryside farm with your cousins and spend the rest of your life in leisure.

That was the game plan, anyway. 

It couldn’t be helped. You were average as could one be. Sure, you came from a noble household, but what student at the school didn’t come from one? And anyway, you weren’t sure if you should _still_ be considered nobility. Your house was one of the older ones, but it was only thanks to your great-great-great ancestor that you had even obtained a title in the first place. (God bless his noble <s>scheming</s> heart for pushing the then-King out of the way from a merchant who had lost track of his cart… Your poor great-great-great grand uncle had one of his legs run over but it was his arm that needed a cast… And somehow, the doctor diagnosed him with an “intermittently blind” disease. He had essentially given his life to the King, who felt pity enough to decide to take his saviour under his wing.)

Yeah, no kidding. 

It wasn’t the most noble of causes, and definitely suspicious enough, but it was still enough to protect your family for generations and generations. 

Nevertheless, your family had never gained any notable achievements since. Times were hard, and to be frank: you weren’t entirely well-off, but you never went hungry either. Then again, that was the cold unfortunate truth to most aristocratic households. They always changed with the times, and yours wasn’t any different either. Especially with the heavy emphasis on crests and abilities. It was practically known that a new house was being named almost every other month. At this point, who _wasn’t_ nobility? 

But anyway, _that_ was another unfortunate truth: it had been many generations since anyone in your house had possessed a crest. It was a half-joke between the younger generations within your family that the Belfana family had never possessed a crest to begin with—your great-great-great grand uncle had apparently incidentally also lost use of his crest during the Great Runaway Cart Incident but you all suspected that that was also a lie.

Anyway—you were fine just living an average life. Wasn’t there a saying that said that the closer one was to chaos, the more chaotic they were? Anyone in the right mind would avoid such unpleasantries and you weren’t an idiot. 

You couldn’t be if you knew how to play the game. <s>After all, you had been the only one who survived with full health points during the training simulation between the three houses.</s>

Suffice to say, you liked being relatively unknown amidst a school full of nobility and royalty. It would prove to be counterproductive if you put yourself in the middle of hellfire when you desired a quiet life. 

So you figured that you had gone under the radar all this time. 

Except, you were wrong. So, _so_ wrong.

Pinned to the door of your room was an envelope that had your name written in red ink. It was ominous enough, and you felt the ghost of probably some deceased student or teacher still roaming the school attempt to sneak up from behind you. But, upon seeing the contents of the letter, it was likely that they decided that they didn’t want to intervene with your unfortunate situation and thus, they promptly exited out of there to go haunt another student or so.

All of the blood seemed to drain from your being as you read the contents within the envelope. In the same ominous red ink, it read: 

“_I know your secret._”

At that moment, a student had passed by and greeted you casually with a, “Hey, what’s up? Are you alright?” 

You responded with a loud shriek that probably traumatized the poor boy, and balled the little envelope into your hands and dashed down the hall. You might’ve shouted out a quick, “None of your business!” but honestly who could blame you for being rude? You had bigger fish to fry.

Like, the little punk who had dared to blackmail you. 

Excuse them??? 

Didn’t they know? First of all, you were a god damn senior. You were going to graduate come the end of the school year. You might not have had a crest, but you could hold your own just as well as any other student. Furthermore, years of experience gave you an edge over a newbie.

And sure, all of the spotlight might have gone to the royal children but—hello! It was basically an unspoken rule that if anyone wanted to get to Dimitri, _creme de la creme_, then they’d have to get through you! <s>First Felix and Sylvain, and practically everyone else that was part of the Blue Lions including the janitors; kitchen staff; the dirt on the floor; and _then_ you.</s> You were somebody—even if you were a _little_ somebody. 

How dare they leave such a creepy-looking note on your door and tell you to meet them in one of the unused rooms after hours if you wanted to keep your secret safe? 

You were positive that it was a freshman. Everyone knew that unholy things happened in that room after the school day was over. Once, you’d walked past the building during an evening run and had heard the cackling of a mad man from the room. You peeked into the room and saw no one, and you promptly ran away from the scene and back to your dorm where you crawled under your sheets and refused to come out until daylight broke.

<s>It should be noted that when you attended class the next day, rumours had gone about that _you_ were the ghost.</s>

You collected yourself in front of the door. Seriously—you were going to give it to this kid. It was out right rude for them to choose a meeting spot so far away from your dorms and especially when you had better things to do. Like eat. Or sleep. Or anything that consisted of you avoiding your responsibilities, really. Anything except having to deal with someone who should have known better.

You dusted the dirt off of your bottoms and straightened out your blouse, and took a deep breath. 

If it were anyone else—Dimitri, Felix, hell, even Mercedes, sweet heart that she was—you might have cautioned a bit. But you were sure that you could handle this. Deductive reasoning dictated so. Seniority always outweighed fresh meat. You had been at the school long enough—you _knew_ things.

Secrets were always going to come to the light, but never yours if you could help it. 

You could handle a snot-nosed runt who dared to blackmailed you—second daughter of Jack Belfana, First of Her Name, Queen of the Average and Mundane, Captain of the Nobodies, Breaker of Crests, and <s>Mother of Wyverns</s>.

The kid wouldn’t stand a chance. 

So you opened the door and took your first steps in. Upon first glance, you failed to see anyone. It seemed empty enough, until you finally spotted at the front of the room where a lone figure sat at the teacher’s chair with their long legs crossed at their ankles on top of the desk, and their hands folded over their stomach. 

You felt your own stomach drop as the cloud parted ways, moonlight cut through windows into the otherwise dim room, and gave view to their face. 

“WHY IS IT _YOU_?!”

And, there you were, having expected to deal with the ignorant brat swiftly and efficiently; having thought little of your opponent only to realize that you were in fact, mere steps away from the person and problem that would change your life forever.

And for all of your previous bravado, you were suddenly willing to shout your secret aloud for the entire world to know if it meant that you didn’t need to deal with the devil in front of you.


	2. Proposal

The rule of thumb was: unless there was an adult present or someone in a position of (lawful) authority, then you didn’t have to admit to anything. You knew how the law worked. Unless there was evidence present, then you had reason to deny everything. It was within your right.

So, before the other student was able to respond to your previous question, you declared aloud: “I plead innocence!”

“What?”

“You’re not getting anything out of me, Sylvain!”

You knew better than to fall into any sort of trap laid by the rascal. 

Once, when you were younger, he had started a small fire in one of the palace stables. It wasn’t your fault—Sylvain was just such a persuasive guy that it was hard to say no to him. Especially when it involved him <s>bribing</s> you with a box of those colourful pastries from Maduree’s. And it wasn’t like he specifically said he was going to start a fire; it just happened accidentally. Or as accidentally as a fire-based magic spell could be anyway. You weren’t an idiot, but you weren’t the brightest in the box, either. Though, you’ll be glad to know that that lessened over time.

Needless to say, you had followed along with his plans at the time without any sort of second-thought. 

Ultimately, Dimitri’s uncle hadn’t appreciated it very much, and you didn’t want to ever get on his bad side again. 

“I haven’t even said anything yet.” 

“And you won’t, if you know what’s good for you!”

Decidedly, you turned on your heel, convinced that whatever secret of yours that Sylvain knew wasn’t worth falling into one of his nasty little schemes. There was that other time that he gave you some new products from the capital that all of the noble girls were raving about—and it turned your hair purple for the entire month. 

“Oh, I see.” He was grinning. You could tell he was by the tone of his voice, seemingly dejected to the untrained ear, but you knew better. 

You turned around to see his expression, and saw that he had his arms behind his head now and was leaning back onto his chair. You hadn’t even realized that you were suddenly in front of him now, your feet having moved of their own accord. He remained looking cavalier as ever, unfazed by your bluff. 

He gave you a sorrowful pout now, but his eyes retained the same devious glint as before. “But what am I to do when there are others who would certainly be interested in hearing your secrets?” 

You stared.

He stared back.

“—ones who would be willing to pay any price to find out this information.”

“You don’t scare me!”

“Remember that time in the when you accidentally poisoned one of the palace horses? Rufus still doesn’t know who poisoned his precious mare.“

“_You_ were the one who said that he would enjoy the carrot cake! And I wasn’t the only one there!“

“Okay, how about the time you swapped the covers of almost all of the books in the library so that they didn’t match the actual books?” 

“That was _your_ idea.”

“Including the time we were at the campsite? It wasn’t _my_ idea to eat a magical berry… Didn’t a certain someone sit in the tub the entire night, with her clothes on, fearful that they were going to die?”

It wasn’t your finest of hours, and you dreaded the memory. “We said we’d never speak of that time again!”

“Then does a certain someone know that you have something of his?”

Here, you paused. You had a lot of possessions, if you were honest. Your dormitory was far from neat and organized. Even with the routine checks, your room always ended up returning to being a mess within the next five minutes after a thorough clean up. 

You vaguely remembered borrowing a textbook from Ashe—or was it Dedue’s? They hadn’t asked for it back, but you were certain that it was probably still somewhere in your room… likely under the wardrobe or under your bed…

There was also one of Marianne’s jackets that you borrowed a while ago. You also took Mercedes’ curling wand once too. This, you meant to return to her, but had always forgotten to do so.

There were too many items that you had borrowed that you were unsure of what Sylvain was talking about. 

Your confusion must have been evident on your face, because he explained flatly, “During that same camping trip? You stole Felix’s tie clip?”

…

There wasn’t anything scandalous about that. Worst case scenario, he could just accuse you of suffering from a case of five fingers. Sure, Felix might be angry for a few minutes, but you were used to his quick-tempered nature. You thought that it was best to play dumb. 

Unfortunately for you, that never worked for Sylvain. He was too intelligent for the both of you. 

“…Yeah, and then you also stole his used handkerchief.”

Now that—_that_ was conflicting. You swore you had a good excuse for stealing Felix’s tie clip: it was gold and intricately crafted, and could sell for a pretty penny—could anyone really blame you? But as for his handkerchief… _that_ was something you didn’t really want to explain. And you certainly hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Least of all, Sylvain. 

Some people considered it an imitate item. You’d heard of stories from the eastern lands where girls would embroider handkerchiefs for their lovers as a symbol of their feelings. That wasn’t necessarily true in Fodlan, but the stories from the east were a commodity amongst young girls who had started learning the word “romance”. 

After all, Fodlan men weren’t known for being romantic. Back in the olden days, it was considered a marriage proposal if a man were to offer his lover the carcass of a dead animal. **[1]**

Thankfully, that had changed with the times. In some traditional villages, a person would propose marriage by standing vigil outside of their lover’s bedroom for three nights while their lover slept. In the case of an competition, the rivals would fight until one survived. On the fourth morning, the winner would officially make their proposal. 

Needless to say, there were a lot of cases of stalking and harassment that went to court. Sure, at least it wasn’t the body of a dead animal outside of your window, but it wasn’t that much better having a strange man creep outside of your residence. 

And anyway, regardless of the times, it was still true through and through that Fodlan men were hopeless when it came to romance.

Sylvain watched with much glee as your expression changed from a neutral expression to utter horror.

“_YOU WERE THERE?!_” You pulled a chair up in front of him and sat with its back in front of you. It was time to change tactics. “Okay, but hear me out—you didn’t do anything to stop me.”

“Why would I? If I did, then I wouldn’t have more material to blackmail you with.”

“Right.” Of course. The damn jerk. “But don’t forget, you went through Rufus’ adult collection when you weren’t supposed to. In fact, no one even knew it existed until _you_ found it.”

“Oh, yeah. That was great, wasn’t it? I certainly gained a new-found appreciation for the opposite sex that day. It took me a week to go through it all, without getting caught, too!”

You squinted. Hard. 

_Ugh._ Why was he so shameless? Couldn’t he care about his nobility and prestige for once? 

“He also tried to court a Lady Katherine once, and he nearly succeeded, before you intervened.” You paused here, watching his expression once again. He looked as though he were having a hard time remembering who she even was. “Sister of Lord Victor Walker? Long brown hair, green eyes? Freckled skin?” He finally grinned in recognition now. “…Rufus never did find out, did he?”

“Nope.” Sylvain was way too pleased with himself. “He didn’t find out about Lady Melanie, either.”

Even _you_ didn’t know about a Lady Melanie.

This was hopeless, you decided. You caved. “Sylvain,” you started; his grin widened in response. “What do you _want_?”

He promptly swung his legs over the side of the table and sat properly. Then, he folded his hands under his chin and leaned in towards you. “So, there’s this girl—”

“Really?” There was no use trying to hide your disgust. It wouldn’t have worked. You wondered if there was any way for you to castrate him and get away with it… but his parents wouldn’t be happy to have an heirless heir…

Then again, you couldn’t imagine that they were all-too pleased with their reputation going to the shitter with Sylvain’s philandering ways. If he continued on, there would probably be many unknown grandchildren coming for a claim to the family name in a few years… 

“_Really_? We’re going to do this right now? After all that I had just threatened to expose? Do you really think you’re in any position to judge me?”

“Just because you’re blackmailing me doesn’t mean that I can’t judge you.”

He stared. 

You stared back.

He rolled his eyes and continued, “…Her name is Whitney. Whitney Avalon.”

He waited here, and you wondered what for. You didn’t personally know a Whitney, but her last name sounded familiar… There weren’t any nobles in the capital with that name, but it wouldn’t have rung a bell if it wasn’t important…

And then it hit you. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“So I won’t tell you then.”

“She’s the Magistrate’s daughter!” 

It was one thing to fool around with girls from Fodlan—even noble ones. It was also one thing to fool around with girls in the villages nearby, but Sylvain should have known better than to court the child of a government official from a village that surrounded Garreg Mach. The area was considered neutral territory and government officials were supposed to be impartial. If her father were to propose marriage to a noble from any of the other three named territories, then that was clause for them to accuse him of trifling with politics!

“I hadn’t realized the first time!”

You nearly had whiplash. “And how many times was it?”

“Once… twice… maybe half a dozen times…”

You nearly flung your chair at him, honestly. It was a wonder that you had so much restraint unlike a certain someone. 

“…Does her father know?” you asked, then realized that her father would have taken advantage of Sylvain’s trysts with his daughter to propose marriage if he had known. “Actually, forget that I asked. What do you want _me_ to do about it?”

“I was thinking that if she saw that I was in a serious, committed relationship with another girl, then maybe she’d back off? Nothing I’ve tried has been able to get rid of her!”

You were stupefied, really. Sylvain was notorious for his womanizing ways. There hadn’t ever been a time where he’d set his eyes on a girl and they’d been able to decline him. But that fantasy typically disappeared soon afterwards. He had never been able to keep a girl. Then again, you didn’t think he had ever really tried to keep one for longer than a few trysts. 

You also realized how dumb he actually was. Did he really think a fake relationship would work? No one would believe it. _You_ had standards.

You also found a sudden appreciation for the girl you didn’t even know. She must have been a saint to have the patience to fall for someone like him.

“…How did you get rid of these girls all those other times?”

“Ingrid helped me.”

“And she won’t help you this time?”

“…Ingrid’s actually, kind of mad at me currently.”

“Why?”

“…Whitney was Ingrid’s friend.”

You squinted hard. Then moved back—“No thank you, I’d rather not.”

You moved to rise from your spot, blackmail be damned. If even Ingrid was unwilling to help, then how could _you_ do anything? 

Besides, you still needed Ingrid’s help from time to time. It would prove futile if you were to get on her bad side by helping Sylvain when she had deemed him a lost cause. 

He promptly stood up to catch your hand. “Wait!” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“Please?” he looked helpless. “I wouldn’t have come to you if i didn’t think you could do it.”

You looked up. There was nothing.

You touched your forehead and inspected your fingers. 

There was also nothing, and you thought that it was strange. There was clearly no ink on your fingers. But surely, the word “sucker” must have been _somewhere_ on your body if Sylvain thought that you were actually going to believe him.

He changed tactics again.

“Every summer, you go to your family’s farm in the north,” he said. You nodded your head. It wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew this. He swallowed hard, and suddenly, you felt a shiver run up your spine. “Three summers ago, you left abruptly—without any explanation, in the middle of the night. _I_ know why you left.”

Maybe you had slipped up when you stole Felix’s tie clip and handkerchief. You had gone with a bunch of people during that camping trip. It was easy to have gotten caught. You could blame that on carelessness.

But _this_? You swore that no one had known. After all, you had made the decision suddenly that evening when you came home. Your parents had been stunned at your rain soaked appearance and the way that you trembled. You barely recall what you had said to them, but it was enough to convince them to send you away earlier than planned.

Part of you felt guilt. After all, you had left right after and before _that_ incident. You didn’t want to remember it, and you didn’t think that anyone had known about it. 

The other part of you realized the extent of Sylvain’s knowledge. You always knew he was intelligent, but you didn’t realize how crafty he could be. 

Most of all, you actually felt a bit fearful of him. Not because you were worried about him hurting you—but what he could do with the information that he knew. 

…And that was how you became Sylvain’s mistress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[1]** No animals will be harmed in this fic. 
> 
> That last bit got a bit serious didn’t it? Euheuhuehuehe. But fret not. For the most part, this fit will remain a romantic comedy but considering the theme of the story (“blackmail/secrets”), I had to add in a bit of mystery there, didn’t I?


	3. Your Legacy

Something was flung to your head.

You tried to ignore it the first time, but it happened a second time. Then a third, then a fourth, and finally—before a fifth hit landed, you caught it just before it reached your head and immediately threw the crumpled note right back at the attacker. It hit Sylvain directly in the face, and he cradled his face with both hands and lowered his head to his desk.

You rolled your eyes. It was only a piece of paper. He didn’t need to be so dramatic.

When the new professor turned around, he only saw that you were perfectly seated with your eyes glued to the front board, while Sylvain was cradling his head. He raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pursue the matter. He continued teaching the lesson at hand, without realizing that even though you were staring, your mind was already drifting off. 

Why were you even studying foreign trade and policies? Was it necessary? Everyone knew that the officer’s academy was supposed to teach you how to fight effectively. Who needed words when you could just plunge your sword right into the enemy’s chest and cease any and all arguments? If you were going to go into politics, you could have just gone to a university instead of enrolling at the specialized institution… 

Still, you supposed that there were some perks. Like the fishing port. It was great having one on campus, especially during the hot summer days. You could practically laze about on the port and catch fish and cook them right at the peer. 

Speaking of which, wasn’t it close to lunch time? It felt as though the day were passing so slowly. You didn’t really care much for the food that the academy provided. It wasn’t the worst, but certainly not the greatest either, and you would rather go off into the village to get your fill. Maybe Annette or Ingrid would like to join you. 

After that, you had black magic lessons which wasn’t exactly your forte but you didn’t mind it. Finally, your last class of the day was an elective with Professor Hanneman on the history of crests and its uses. 

You blanched at the thought. _Ugh._ What was with the whole obsession with crests? You were certain that if you were faced with an untrained crest bearer, then you could easily knock them out with a 1-hit KO. 

A _trained_ one on the other hand…

You suddenly thought of your other classmates —a certain royal offspring in particular— and glanced around only to suddenly notice Dimitri staring at you. Specifically, he was _smiling_ at you. You squinted. Although you had also known Dimitri since you were young, you had always been aware of your differences in status. He was a Prince _and_ a crest bearer, which made you, a psuedo-noble, basically the dirt underneath his shoe if you were lucky. 

Now _he_ was someone that you couldn’t say for certain that you could beat. Although there was that one time where you _hadn’t_ had your ass thoroughly kicked—but you couldn’t call a win either…

You frowned at the memory, and, realizing that Dimitri might misunderstand, you promptly fixed your expression and smiled politely at him.

“What do you want?” It came out harsher than you intended and you grimaced at your lack of eloquence.

He pointed towards the front where Professor Byleth was staring at you once again, looking unimpressed.

“We’ll talk after class,” he said. You nodded helplessly, and when he turned around again, you sunk into your seat and then—

_Smack._

Into the back of your head.

You threw your head back to glare at Sylvain, but picked up the note anyway.

_Meet me at the ghost house during lunch._

You scribbled a quick reply, and threw it right at his face again. You hoped he got a paper cut or two.

_No._

* * *

You didn’t have much of an impression on Byleth. He was young and handsome, but he was reticent and typically kept to himself. You didn’t know what to consider of him. Dimitri had praised him greatly, but his omnipotent gaze always left you feeling transparent and naked in front of him.

It was hard to meet his eyes, especially since the two of you were alone.

“Is everything alright with you?” he asked. “I couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed today.”

Truth be told, even though you eventually <s>begrudgingly</s> agreed to assist Sylvain, you had avoided him at every chance that you could. He was rightful to want to see you during lunch, but, you weren’t sure if you could muster the courage to be around him knowing what he knew. It wasn’t embarrassment, but when you thought of the following months after you had essentially run away, you didn’t know how to react. 

You raised your gaze and timidly met with Byleth’s expectant one. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go without giving him an explanation, and so you caved. You really hadn’t meant to say so much, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. You went into a long tangent about the nature of your relationship with Sylvain and all of the schemes he had pulled you into since you were children, and how he had resorted using those secrets against you without disclosing too much information as to _what_ those secrets were. 

“So basically, Sylvain’s blackmailing you.”

You whimpered, but nodded your head pathetically.

Byleth sighed. “Is it about that time you got lost and tried to find your dorm but ended up at the former study hall in the west wing?”

“Um, no.” He hadn’t even been at the academy when the incident happened. How did he _know_?

You, yourself, had only arrived at the monastery at the time. You didn’t know the area quite well. Furthermore, not a lot of students had arrived yet. It had primarily been students from the Blue Lions and Golden Deer houses who were at the school, along with the professors and some staff.

“If it’s that, then it’s not really a secret… The entire school knows.”

He was being kind about his wording, but you could tell that he was embarrassed _for_ you. If not, then why did he look away? You were certain that the cute professor must’ve thought you were pathetic. Your reputation was ruined! You were forever known as the girl who fell into the pond!

To be fair, it was during the night and you couldn’t see anything but still—what kind of crazy girl got lost and ran around screaming about ghosts and <s>_scions of empires past_</s>. 

It wasn’t like you were purposefully snooping around at night. In fact, when you had gone off in search of your dorm, it was only sunset. It wasn’t your fault that you were directionally challenged. You only wanted to be able to rest on your nice, soft bed. But by the time you had finally arrived at the former study hall (a.k.a. the Ghost Room) — which wasn’t even listed on the official map of the school, for your information — it had turned dark outside. 

You weren’t willing to take the chance, and, after <s>quickly snooping around</s> doing a thorough inspection of the unknown room, you turned on your heel to once again attempt to find your room. 

It was then, by chance, that you caught a wisp of a shadow from the corner of your eye. You heard an eerie, distant laugh before you had even reached the threshold of the room. You refused to even turn around before you escaped without any proper knowledge as to where you were going next. 

Thankfully, you soon encountered a girl with short blonde hair within the area and were intending to ask her for directions.

“You can see me?” she seemed just as equally surprised to encounter you, and, sure, her wording was weird, but what was even more strange was—when you blinked, she was gone. 

Of course you reacted the same as any other sane person: you bolted out of there screaming your head off. 

There was also that one time that Claude asked you to help him return equipment down into the basement—God, you would never help that jerk ever again, but who told him to be Heir of House Reigan and a huge pain in the ass but, who also told you to be the insect larva compared to his 5-star gourmet fish? 

Cowardice was, ultimately, a choice.

Nevertheless, you followed along with him and while you cheerfully told him you would wait at the entrance to the upstairs, leaving Claude to do the rest of the heavy lifting, you once again saw something from the corner of your eye.

It was lavender-coloured this time and you swore you saw the whiteness of a piece of fabric gently swaying in the air and, stupid you, you chased after it. 

When you came to, you awoke to Claude standing over you.

“Did you really just run into a wall?”

Evidently, you gave yourself a nosebleed and knocked yourself out cold. Even though you swore you saw the shadow of a person on the ground… But what kind of brilliant idea was it to put a wall right after turning a corner? It was so strange to end that hallway so abruptly. 

“It’s not that!” You were sure that your face was red, but you couldn’t help it.

He cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, why don’t you want to help him?”

What. 

“Why don’t you want to help Sylvain?”

Because he was a con-artist hiding behind his family name? <s>Then again, you didn’t have any room to criticize because your great-ancestor had conned your family into nobility…</s> Because, for all of the schemes he’d pulled you into but got away unscathed while you were left to suffer the punishment by yourself? Because nothing good ever came out of siding with him?

You looked away. “I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend before.” Not to mention, even if no one else noticed, you weren’t a very good liar.

“Oh.” This time, it was also Byleth who looked away. “Well, Sylvain asked you because he trusted you, right?” You grimaced, and he smiled. You wondered if he was actually a sadist who enjoyed seeing people squirm, and how heartbroken his admirers would be to know he that he was actually a freak. “And, it sounds like regardless of what history he has, he still needs your help. Why don’t you help him?”

“…That’s such a strong way to put it.” When he said it like that, it made you sound selfish and unwilling. Not that you ever claimed to be a good person, but you wouldn’t purposefully ignore a person in need…

You blamed your Faerghus upbringing. Whomever said chivalry was dead had clearly never met someone from your kingdom.

And it wasn’t like you were unwilling. It was just that, under the circumstances that you were forced to comply that made you act like a huge baby.

He raised an eyebrow, and you cleared your throat. 

“I don’t know if there’s anything I really can do. Besides, Sylvain’s got a long history of getting me into trouble. You don’t know, but, he accidentally broke Felix’s training sword when we were young and blamed it on me. And Felix is _scary_—scarier than Professor Manuela when you wake her up from her sleep.”

“I can name a few things scarier than waking Manuela up,” you thought you saw a glint in his eyes, but the professor was basically on par with Dedue when it came to facial expressions: they were both completely and utterly unexpressive, “—like ghosts roaming the halls at night.”

You stared.

He stared.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and, not willing to take the risk by continuing the conversation, you took a step back.

“I, uh, I have to go.”

You high-tailed it right out of there.


	4. God-Shattering Star

The logical response was to confront Sylvain properly instead of being a huge <s>baby</s> coward.

Instead, here you were, loitering around in his room trying to find some sort of dirt on him. You knew that he wasn’t going to be back for another hour or so, courtesy of dear sweet Mercedes going on a tea date with him. <s>You made sure of it in exchange by offering to be her errand girl for her next shopping trip. In other words, you bribed her.</s>

“What are you doing?” 

You turned around and saw Felix standing at the entrance. He left the door wide open while leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. If anyone were to pass by in that moment, then they would have seen your hands going through the drawers in Sylvain’s room.

“I’m trying to find dirt on Syl to run him out of town.” Felix could either assist you or rat you out. He was a hard breed to read, but, you told him the truth anyway because—well, you were a terrible liar. Besides, you knew from experience that lying to Felix never worked out. 

You looked away, missing the way that he raised an eyebrow. For a while, neither of you spoke. Then, much to your surprise, he pushed himself off the frame and shut the door close. 

“You go through his drawers, I’ll check his books,” he said. “Though, it is doubtful that we will find anything. Sylvain wears his shame like a badge.”

_Thank you!_

At least there was _one_ sane person at Garreg Mach, even if he was a dumb jock who thought that fighting against swords with his bare fists was a good idea. 

“Why are you helping me though, Felix?” you asked. You were expecting him to tell you a story about how he and Sylvain had gone to the tavern and Sylvain ditched him with the bill and an angry boyfriend looking for his girlfriend but, Felix’s reasoning was much simpler. <s>Not that you had to endure such an experience yourself. It wasn’t like you were projecting.</s>

He shrugged. “I just want to see Sylvain squirm.”

Ah. Yes. That sounded about right. He seemed to be in a good mood, and under any other circumstance, you might have prayed for Sylvain, but currently, he was on your bad side. If anyone could make Sylvain squirm, it would definitely be Felix. For now, you were willing to team up with him.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and made a mental note to <s>butter him up</s> get him a jar of that oil he liked to use to polish his swords. 

“What about you?” he asked.

You flinched. 

Because Sylvain was blackmailing you? Specifically with one of the topics involving Felix himself?

You were dumb—but not crazy. Not completely yet, at least. As if you would tell him that.

“Girl problems.” It wasn’t the entire truth but—it was partially true. After all, there was still the problem with Whitney. You changed the subject. “If Sylvain wasn’t a noble, he’d have been caught and hanged for adultery, I’m sure.”

“You’re assuming he hasn’t already committed adultery,” he remarked. “He just hasn’t been caught yet.”

…

You weren’t as surprised as you should have been. He was nearly as bad as Lorenz when it came to skirt-chasing, although you suspected that Sylvain managed to bed more women than his more Golden Deer counterpart. 

Surprisingly, snooping through Sylvain’s room wasn’t as uncomfortable as one would have assumed. You and Felix lapsed into a quaint silence. Every now and then, you would get distracted by his possessions. At some, you wondered _how_ Sylvain had managed to sneak them into the academy. You were fascinated by the items around his room. He was more organized than you imagined: books were with books; clothes with clothes; weapons with weapons; and everything else was scattered randomly. It was much better than your own room that was convoluted and had no rhyme nor rhythm. 

Suddenly, Felix spoke. “What are you doing this weekend?” 

You tensed, and turned to him with a hard look. “What’s up?”

“Train with me.”

“You’ve destroyed all of your other punching bags?”

He grinned at you. “I want to try something new.”

Like using flesh as a punching bag? Again, you were dumb, but not crazy. The shiver that ran up your spine was perfectly normal. He only continued to grin at you, his smile looking absolutely feral and daring you to decline him.

If you rejected him, well, there was the possibility of him ratting you out to Sylvain… But on the other hand, you really didn’t want to spar with Felix. He was a madman when it came to his training. 

“By something new… Is it going to involve me, you know, being taken away in a body bag?”

“Don’t be a coward.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve fought one on one with the boar once and actually had him on his toes. You can withstand me.”

_That_ was the problem. Sure, you might have enough defense to spar against him but as for any other lingering abuse? Surviving on your last health point might have been considered a win _but at what cost_?! The recovery period was just as bad as the fight; you would _gladly_ take a loss rather than attempt a win when it came to Felix.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. But it was promptly shot down before you could play it out fully inside of your head.

“Don’t even think of playing possum,” he warned. “I’ll know.”

You cursed. It was _one_ time! You didn’t think that he would still remember.

“Felix,” you bemoaned. “Isn’t there anyone else that you could take your violence out upon?”

“You are the _only_ resilient one.” 

You stared. 

_R-resilient_? He didn’t need to say it like that! Sure, you might’ve gone through a bunch of dangerous missions and came out alive, but you were still flesh and mortal! And—and who said anything about being _strong_ and _holy_ and _invincible_? You didn’t believe that you were strong, but it was true that you always came out alive at the end of simulations and tests. Even that time when Catherine put the Blue Lions through that weeklong training session-from-hell, you were the only one who hadn’t been thoroughly laid to waste. In fact, you were also the one who conquered the mock-stronghold solo and defended your teammates!

<s>But that was also because you hid from the most dangerous enemies and/or attacked them with traps. Who told your teammates to think with their weapons only and rush in head first? It was much better to lay traps in the dark and let your enemies fall into unsuspecting deaths.</s>

But still! Who said anything about being _indomitable_? 

The aura around you was currently as bright as the golden fish phenomenon, and your eyes twinkled in delusion. 

“Besides,” he continued, “The way that you fight is different. I can never predict your movements. It’s downright beastly, if you know what I mean.”

Your elation dimmed for a second, as you tilted your head at Felix. It sounded like a compliment, but you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps he had meant to say that it was downright _**God**ly_?

You tugged Sylvain’s bedding off. Some items fell out from between his blankets, but they were boring items and nothing that you could use to blackmail him with. <s>Come on! For a notorious womanizer, you’d have thunk that he’d have some sort of bedroom secrets! Maybe a pair of handcuffs or a whip or _something_!</s> Though, you did find the new sequel to the Saint Knight series underneath his blanket…

“Why don’t you ask Professor Byleth to spar?” You tried to stuff the book into your sleeve, but it wouldn’t fit even when you rolled it. You frowned, and then tensed even more when you thought of the young Professor. “Hey, Felix, can I ask you a question?”

“Go on.”

“You don’t think there are ghosts roaming the halls at night, do you?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, and saw him shrug. He wasn’t looking at you, so you quickly unbuttoned your blazer and stuffed the book in between your shirt and outerwear. 

“Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised. With a facility as old as this, there are bound to be some lost souls wandering. Besides, we _do_ have a cemetery on the grounds…”

“_We what_?!” 

The pillow that you had de-fluffed swung in your hand, conveniently knocking away an item that had been hidden underneath. It fell over the side of the bed to be forgotten and unseen unless one were to specifically search for it. Unfortunately for you, you would have seen it had you not been so surprised by Felix’s statement. In fact, you would have found it familiar if you did… 

Just as you turned to stare wide-eyed at Felix, light flooded into the room. The door drew open and—_shit_!

It was Sylvain, who looked throughly unimpressed upon catching you and Felix in the act. He put a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow at the both of you.

Felix promptly raised his hands into the air, even though they had been rummaging through his books naught but a second ago. He pointed to a book that he had conveniently left at the table at the entrance of the room. You had seen it earlier, but paid it no mind. Now you wondered if you should have taken the book for yourself.

“Just returning something that I borrowed,” Felix said. 

Sylvain smiled. “At least one of us has the decency to return things.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. You glared—but that glare quickly moved from Sylvain to Felix when you realized that he was making his exit. You moved to chase after him, but Sylvain stuck a leg out right before you reached the threshold. 

“I’ll see you on Saturday at 9am,” Felix said, without a worry, without even a glance back.

The jerk! The traitor! How dare he abandon you?! <s>Who was going to be your shield now?!</s>

“I didn’t agree to anything!” You shouted, with your upper body half-way through the door. Felix pretended not to hear, as he was already far down the hall. You cursed his long legs and—speaking of legs, you kicked at Sylvain’s that was blocking you from leaving.

“Excuse me,” you said. “I’m trying to leave here.”

He ignored you. “And, pray tell, what were _you_ returning? At least, I hope you were returning something and not going through my room without permission.”

You cleared your throat. “You know, I actually wasn’t returning something. I was, um, I was looking for—um, I was looking for that…” Your eyes darted around the room, then landed onto the plant mister beside the empty flower vase. 

“Yeah, nice try,” he laughed. “But that was from Dedue.”

_Blasted!_

You looked away. “Yeah? Well, _I_ was the one who lent it to Dedue.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” 

He pushed you by the shoulder, forcing you to retreat away from the door and back into his room.

“W-w-what do you think you’re doing?” Your knees hit his bed and you buckled from his dark gaze. That look was never a good sign! Curse Sylvain for being intimidating when he wanted to be. <s>You never thought to blame yourself for your lack of a backbone.</s>

“Here we are, with silly, innocent me thinking that we’re such great friends, and you would attempt to _lie_ to me?”

“Sylvain,” you deadpanned, as he lorded over you. You knew you should have held your tongue, but you couldn’t help it. He was such a jerk. “You were never silly, and you were never innocent.”

He lost the right to use those descriptions the second that he came out of his mother’s womb.

He frowned, then, you felt your back hit his bed. He crawled over you and for a moment, he just stared. 

“Right,” he muttered. You raised an eyebrow. His tone was off and you couldn’t discern what he meant by that. “My mistake for pretending.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t get the chance to. His hands crawled up your sides and before you knew it, he was tickling you. You squirmed and protested in response, but Sylvain was relentless as he attacked you. You found your courage in that moment as you used your legs to twist him over and yank at his hair when he was distracted. He grunted in response but tugged on one of your earlobes as retaliation causing you to gasp. 

You rolled here and there on his small bed without realizing that you were already nearing the edge of his bed. You landed onto the floor with a loud thud, but in your moment of shock, you had pulled him down with you. Thankfully Sylvain had been more perceptive as he caught your head with one of his hands right before it hit the floor, but it left you in a compromising position. 

His gaze turned dark once more. You were surprised by the turn of events and didn’t immediately realize his grasp on your hands above your head nor the fact that his lower half was in between your legs. 

You were panting underneath him, and, if anyone were to walk in on you, they definitely would have seen an image very far from innocent. You squirmed and tried to get out of his hold, but he wasn’t giving. 

He grinned. “How’s this for innocent?” 

“Sylvain,” you warned, but he wasn’t intimidated. In fact, he tightened his grip and you felt his lower half settle in between your legs. He leaned down and released one of your hands to hold your cheek.

“Stay still,” his voice went low, a husky sort of sound that you hadn’t heard from him before. His breath tickled you neck and you moved away. “Just for a moment, if you don’t want me to say anything about what I know.”

He didn’t move any further although his hand never left your cheek, and the other continued to hold your hand above your head. You were stunned and didn’t know how to react. What was he scheming? You were sure that he was plotting something. Otherwise, why would he be so strange? 

You narrowed your eyes. Sylvain… seemed to be waiting? 

There was a knock on the door. Your eyes darted to it quickly, but Sylvain held you in place.

“Come in,” he responded. Your eyes went wide once again and you broke one hand free which you use to smack Sylvain and effectively knocked him away from you. You brought your foot out to kick him, too, but it was useless. The door had already opened just as you sat up. 

A girl with dark brown hair stood at the entrance. 

You knew who she was. You had seen her once or twice, even though you had never personally interacted with her. But it was enough for you to realize what Sylvain had plotted. 

Her eyes were wide and watery and you _saw_ the second her joy seemed to shatter entirely. It shifted from you to Sylvain, then back to you. Although you were no longer in your compromising situation, it was easy to assume the situation. Your clothes were ruffled; his bed was messed. It didn’t help that Sylvain was sitting beside you either, with one hand to his lip as if it had just been kissed, and he was staring at you with a seemingly dazed expression.

“Do you understand now?” It was Sylvain speaking, but you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or Whitney. His gaze met yours — though unreadable, but the second that it turned to Whitney, it was frosty and even more foreign. “I tried to be nice about it, but you just wouldn’t comply.”

You wanted to laugh. So what if you didn’t want to comply? So what if Whitney was persistent? This was too cruel.

You didn’t need to look. Whitney had already run off. Even though she was gone, you found it difficult to accept what had happened. 

“Sylvain,” you said, rising to your feet and straightening your clothes. “That was unnecessary.”

He followed your actions and stood as well. He shrugged, but wouldn’t meet your gaze as he walked past you to close the door. Then, he began to sort through his belongings, as if he were rearranging the mess that you had made.

“I needed her to leave me alone. Could you blame me?”

“She _likes_ you.”

“She only likes what I represent.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know enough.” 

He was being stubborn, but you couldn’t help but sympathize for the poor girl who had her heart break in one of the cruelest ways. 

“Don’t bother cleaning,” you said to him. “It was already a mess before I did anything.”

You were saddened to know that Sylvain could be just as heartless as all of those nobles that he detested. 

The door resounded with a loud slam before he could even turn around.


	5. Chaotic Good

Knock.

Knock, knock, _knock very loudly_.

Then—

Light.

Into the room.

You groaned under your covers and pulled it over your head, and rolled onto your side.

“Wake up.” It was Ingrid, and she did not sound happy. 

“No,” you whined, smacking away her pesky hands. She fought with you for your blanket and you struggled, and then cursed your lack of strength as she easily tugged it towards her, causing you to roll onto the floor. 

“You have to get up,” she scolded. “For one, you’re already late for breakfast. And secondly, I heard what happened yesterday.” Yesterday? What happened—_oh_. “Seriously! I thought you’d have known better, but Sylvain? Of all people?”

You tugged back the blanket and threw it around your shoulders then rose into a sitting position on the floor. “It’s _because_ it’s Sylvain that it happened.” You were too sleepy to respond properly, and the ambiguity of your statement flew over your head. 

She squinted. “What?”

You flopped back down onto the floor, cocoon-wrapping yourself. “Five more minutes, Ingrid.”

“Wait, you can’t just fall asleep on me like this! Tell me what you meant by that!” she protested, but it was too late. Her words fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, you were throwing on your uniform haphazardly, cursing when you misaligned the buttons on your blazer. Your undershirt was also improperly buttoned too, but you figured that you could hide it if you could just get your blasted blazer in order. 

“There’s nothing to talk about!” It was hard to get through to her when you were multi-tasking. Ingrid hadn’t stopped pestering you for the details of your encounter with Sylvain, and you would have explained to her properly if you weren’t so late.

“That was your fault, by the way,” she hissed.

“I know, I know!” you bemoaned. “I couldn’t help it.”

“I think you’re the reason why the students get such a bad reputation for snooping around the school at night,” she said. “You’re not still snooping, are you? What do you even do up so late?”

“Speaking of which,” it wasn’t related, but you didn’t feel like answering her. “Did you know that we have a cemetery on the monastery grounds?”

“It’s right outside of the cathedral.” She looked at you as if she had misjudged your intelligence all this time. “Don’t change the subject. What happened between you and Sylvain?”

The dining hall was surprisingly full this morning. You promptly pulled Ingrid with you to grab a tray, and while you loaded up both of your trays with some bread, she poured a bowl of soup for each of you. 

“There’s nothing to talk about!” you hissed. “Seriously, _nothing_ happened. It was just a set up. Syl and I would _never_—“

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive. Sylvain had walked up between the both of you with a tray full of food. He effortlessly swapped his tray with Ingrid’s half-full one.

“I’ll take her from you, Ingrid.”

He placed a hand on your elbow, smiling handsomely, but Ingrid bumped into him with her hip and resumed her place back by your side. With Sylvain’s tray still in her hand, she pulled you towards her with her free hand. 

“No need,” she said, with a stern look at him. “You’re interrupting, Sylvain.”

Then, she led you further down the line to grab some more food for your tray, and led you towards a table that primarily had students of common birth. “Eat first. We can talk later.”

See? This was why you did not want to get on her bad side. Sylvain was an idiot to do so. Whomever was ever as understanding, ever as nurturing, ever as wonderful as Ingrid?

She stared at the grapefruit on her tray, then placed it onto yours. You watched her curiously, but ate it happily. Neither she nor Sylvain had liked it because they didn’t like the bittersweet taste, but you had never complained about it. It wasn’t the same as oranges that were always sweet, but you loved the pulpy texture of the family of fruits anyway.

At the time, you didn’t even think to wonder why Sylvain had gotten it if he didn’t like it to begin with…

* * *

Perhaps sensing the awkward atmosphere that lingered about his class during the morning, you were partnered up with Sylvain for your afternoon scouting. You suspected that Professor Byleth did it on purpose and thought ask Bernadetta for some sort of hex spell, but when you caught his eye by chance during your lessons and saw that familiar glint in his eyes, you promptly shrunk into your seat. 

Could it be that Professor Byleth was some sort of supernatural creature himself…? You dreaded the thought.

Still, even though you were partners, it didn’t mean that you needed to talk to him.

You tossed a saddle to Sylvain, hitting him square into the chest as you prepared to head out. 

“You can’t really be _that_ mad, can you?”

It wasn’t even five minutes into your session before he brought up the subject. You whipped your head to glare at him, and he put his hands into the air. 

“You _used_ me!” you accused. 

“You schemed with Mercedes to distract me while you went through my room. I was only evening out the playing field.”

You stared. He raised an eyebrow, though half-heartedly and looking like a wounded pup.

_How did he know?_

You were indignant, but your glare remained. “Call it even?”

He smacked your hand in agreement. 

“I still need your help, though.”

“With what?” 

The road was quiet, almost peaceful. The trial leading towards the forest was rocky but clear, and the trees skirted along the path. You saw a small rabbit sniff the air, before it promptly headed back into the forest when it noticed you and Sylvain. It was a warm, sunny day, but you still had your shoulders firm as you rode through the path. You might have been annoyed with Sylvain, but it wouldn’t distract you from your duty. 

“Whitney enrolled at the academy.”

You laughed gleefully at his misery. “Serves you right.”

“Come on,” he whined. “Show a little sympathy, won’t you?”

“Sylvain,” you rolled your eyes at him this time, and squinted your eyes when you thought you saw a glimmer in the distance. Upon a brief inspection, you saw that it was only a stray arrow stuck in a tree. “She might not be here for you.”

He seemed to consider it, but then quickly shook his head. “You might be right, but how am I supposed to avoid her? I saw her in the dining hall this morning and I _ran_.”

You were surprised. You couldn’t imagine Sylvain running away from a girl. Usually it was the opposite. He didn’t even run away from his father that one time when he openly flirted with Ingrid’s grandmother, and stood there proudly as Margrave Gautier openly scolded him… 

“That’s true,” you said. “I mean, I try to avoid _you_ every day, but here we are…”

He frowned. “Cruel.”

Actually, in all of the years that you had known him, you had never scolded Sylvain for all of the stupid things he had done or gotten you to do. Between your little group, Ingrid almost always took the role of the stern mother while you and Sylvain were like her misbehaved children (though you, unwillingly). Throw Felix into the mix who only had training on his mind, and a Dimitri who broke literally everything that he deigned to even _glance_ at—she had a handful to deal with.

You had never really considered it before, but perhaps, the day had come where Sylvain had gotten more than he bargained for. 

“Sylvain,” you started, carefully, and ever so seriously, “I think that it’s time that you settled down.”

“Don’t even say that.”

When you turned to him, he had a dark cloud on his face. He did not look very happy, and although you were pleased to sour his mood, his glare did not lessen. You cleared your throat and looked away.

“Want to take a walk around?”

He nodded an assent and the both of you tied your horses to some trees nearby. The area seemed desolate enough, but the horses had been decorated with symbols of the Officer’s Academy. They would have to be a fool if anyone tried to steal them.

“What are we looking for anyway?” he asked.

“Just anything that seems suspicious… strange… out of place.” You aren’t sure if you were going to find anything, but it didn’t hurt to keep an open mind.

The ground was littered with leaves, and you kicked at them with the tip of your shoes.

“You think that I could hide away at your farm?” he suddenly asked. “It worked for you, right?”

_That_ was a different situation. It wasn’t the same, you wanted to tell him, but you could not find the voice to do so. He was probably still bitter about the situation, but it wasn’t like you left willingly…

Unable to refute his words, you stayed silent.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I know it wasn’t your choice.”

“Is it really that hard to give Whitney a chance?” You didn’t really feel like talking about _that_ incident, so you changed the subject. Regardless, you didn’t know her much, if at all, but if she liked Sylvain that much — enough to pursue him even after all the tricks he had done — then she couldn’t have been _that_ bad, right?

“I just don’t feel that way for her,” he said. 

You wanted to ask him why he went out with her the few times that he did if he had no interest for her at all, but he seemed to have read your mind. Sylvain shrugged. You supposed he didn’t really need to explain. It had happened to him a few times in the past; even to the others in your little friend-circle as well. How many people had sought alliance with your peers simply because they held a crest? How many of them were genuine and how many were disingenuous, with only their best interests at heart? 

It was understandable that he was wary, but when you thought of how distrusting of people he had become, you frowned.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there who genuinely likes you for who you are.”

His crest and pedigree aside, Sylvain was a personable guy. He was intelligent when he wanted to be—even if it was rare. You supposed that he was handsome too, if you squinted and closed both eyes. He did have a great smile though, and he was tall. Even though he seemed pretty superficial, Sylvain always knew the right words to say and the right things to do. Most of the time at least.

Like, when Glenn had passed away, it was Sylvain who helped Felix out of his grief. The two of them had bonded well even though Felix had been angry at everyone and everything when it happened. Even _you_ weren’t of much help to Felix at the time…

Not to mention, when you were studying to apply for the Officer’s Academy, it was Sylvain who assisted you in raising your magic scores. You didn’t have a talent for magic growing up, but it was still a requirement to have at least _some_ ability in it. If it weren’t for his help, then you probably wouldn’t have been accepted at all. And, even though you loved your family’s farm and hoped to one day retire there, you couldn’t imagine not being by your friends’ sides and learning and growing with them…

Sylvain laughed, though it was a half-hearted one. “Nah, it doesn’t matter. The one girl whose attention that I want won’t even give me much of it anyway.”

You tilted your head, staring at him in curiosity. He… liked someone?

He already had another target?! When he didn’t even put to rest the situation with Whitney?!

You tugged at his hair unexpectedly and harshly. Sylvain grunted loudly and caught your hand in place before you were able to retreat.

“You’re unbelievable, Syl,” you glared up at him. “At least finalize things with Whitney before you start chasing other girls!”

Even though you were reluctant… Well, you supposed that you owed Sylvain out of camaraderie to at least assist him in his dilemma. 

“For the record,” you said, walking ahead of him, “_I’m_ the one who dumps you.”

It didn’t matter what Sylvain had done to you in the past, present, or future.

You wouldn’t abandon him. Not again.

While you had continued on ahead of him, Sylvain stayed rooted to his spot. You hadn’t realized until you were already a good distance away from him, but when you did, you turned around to wait for him. He was silent, strangely so, but even more unfathomable was the expression on his face. You frowned, unable to discern what he was thinking of.

“Syl?”

He smiled, out of his daze; a soft but sincere one. Rarely did he ever show this side of him to others, and you forgot how genuine his smiles could be.

“I knew that I could count on you, babe.”

“I’m dumping you tomorrow.”


	6. Lover's Quarrel

“Did you two get into a fight?”

“I won.” Your reply was immediate, a reflex of sort to compensate for your ego—or lack thereof. 

Beside you, Sylvain turned, crossing his arms over his chest with an eyebrow raised. Meanwhile, Byleth… Well, there was barely a difference in his emotions but, if possible, you thought that he looked even more done with you than usual. Something about the way that his shoulders slumped and he stared at you without moving…

You shifted. Had you gone overboard? Was it too much? Why couldn’t they just let you have this one, even if it was a lie? But you were sure that you could beat Sylvain in a fight if you really tried… After all, hadn’t Felix called you indomitable the other day? 

“I was thinking more along the lines of having engaged combat with others, not each other…” 

Oh. _Oh_. That made sense. 

You plucked a leaf from your head, and hid it in your palm behind your back. 

“Nothing of that sort happened, Prof,” Sylvain cut in, grinning jovially now. He threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, and you tried to nudge him back but he didn’t let go. “If anything, it was just a small lover’s quarrel…”

“Lover’s quarrel?” 

He could admit to being curious, but, Byleth also knew that it was too much work to be involved with the personal lives of his students… Especially when it came to you—you, who was always involved in some scheme or another. He’d heard about the students snooping around at night, and considering that you almost always woke up late and/or came to class late, it wasn’t difficult to put two-and-two together. The others _did_ warn him beforehand that you were a peculiar student after all… 

“As long as you both made up, then I suppose it’s fine,” Byleth said. Here, your ears perked and you frowned at him. So it turned out, he really did plot for you and Sylvain to be stuck together earlier! 

He met your narrowed look with a passive one of his own—one that remained ever unchanging, but, somehow, was still able to intimidate you. You promptly lowered your head and made yourself smaller under Sylvain’s protective arm. You really didn’t have the courage to challenge him back…

“Nevertheless, I’m sure that you both must be tired,” he said. “You should head back and get some rest. As for what you have found during your duties, then I will pass word onto the other knights and faculty. You have done well.”

Initially, you really hadn’t found anything suspicious during your trip. There wasn’t much for either of you to go on as the paths around the school and the nearby town seemed as to be operating normally. It wasn’t until you two took a break at a local tavern did you notice a poster on a bulletin board. Something about how there was frequent thievery occurring and for the locals to be more vigilant. Given that you had been scouting for bandits, you thought to ask the locals for some more information. In the end, you had received some information about how there had been strange happenings at the Red Canyon.

It wasn’t conclusive, but both you and Sylvain agreed that it was better to be safer than sorry. You returned to the monastery shortly after and reported your findings back to Professor Byleth, which led to your current predicament. 

You were reassured to know that he was going to handle the situation, but just as you started you leave, you turned back to him. Byleth was still watching you and Sylvain, but, when you glanced back at him… You thought that he looked a little bit lonely. You didn’t know him very well, but maybe he hadn’t gotten used to the academy yet? You didn’t want to scare him off either, and the others had grown quite fond of him.

“You should get some rest too, Professor,” you said.

He actually looked surprised at your care, but then nodded his head and—was that a smile? You quickly pinched Sylvain’s arm to get him to look, but he only looked at you and not at Byleth. By the time he did, Byleth was back to being the stone statue that he was. 

He waved at you both, and Sylvain nodded and began to pull you along with him. 

“Please tell me that you saw that!” you whispered, conspiratorially. 

“You ridiculing my honour?”

“No, Byleth smiling!”

“He knows how to smile?”

You rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the side. “You know, I think if the Professor smiled more often, he wouldn’t lose in looks even compared to Dimitri.”

“We both know that they lose in comparison to me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes, and he changed the subject. “What are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“About Felix and Whitney.”

You paused in your steps. “What makes you think that I’m going to do something?”

“So you’re not?” 

You looked away. It really wasn’t any of your business whom Felix interacted with—even if it was Whitney. Though, you were curious. It wasn’t like Felix to rendezvous with a girl so late into the evening. It wasn’t like him to interact with _any_ girl at all, not unless they were skilled — though that applied to both men and women — or had something that they could offer him.

He was famously a reticent person who rarely even showed up unless he deigned to grace others with his presence—so could anyone really blame you for pulling Sylvain into the bushes to eavesdrop on the duo who stood by the pier? (Even though you had done so, you were too far away to really hear anything… And it was too dark to even attempt to read their lips.)

You were mostly curious about the relationship between the duo. How did Whitney even know Felix? Furthermore, it didn’t seem as though he had disdained her presence… Which was a rarity, since he also famously did not like many people to begin with. <s>You were certain that he only tolerated _your_ presence, on a good day.</s>

…You wondered if they were still there, and, just as you snuck a quick glance to the direction of the port, you caught Sylvain staring at you. He raised an eyebrow, and you stubbornly looked away once again. 

“I know how to respect other people’s private lives!” 

“…You know, Whitney’s family own a really cool sword collection.”

You were silent.

“Their blacksmith is famous for being talented in town.”

“Sylvain…” 

“She’s probably the only one that would know how to handle his sword.” He sounded as though he approved of such a match; the daughter of a swords collector paired with a finicky swordsman himself… Forgetting the fact that Sylvain had momentarily dated Whitney himself.

“You’re disgusting, Syl,” you scowled, throwing him a fierce glare as you ditched him. He laughed, and easily caught up to you with a light jog. 

“I’m just kidding. I mean, is Felix even interested in those things?” he said, but when you ignored him, he changed the subject. “…Are you going to snoop around the school again?”

Here, you turned at him. “I would never!” Admit it aloud at least. The last time that the professors had been notified of students wandering around the school past their curfew, they had threatened in-school lessons even on your days off! And, while it wasn’t the worst of punishments considering you truly weren’t a terrible student, it meant that it was going to interfere with you catching up on your sleep. 

He snorted. “Of course,” he said. “But you’re still determined to search for something that may or may not exist.”

“I know what I saw!” 

Even if the lavender shadow from the basement had only been a blur, you were certain that you had encountered the blonde-haired girl! She had actually spoken to you and you could distinctly remember the dahlia shade of her hair. None of the other students or faculty had had that same tone, though Dimitri’s came close. Furthermore! She had worn a uniform that belonged to the academy. 

You had heard about the missing students from previous years. She could have been a former student herself. <s>Maybe she knew the truth about the hauntings around the school—and could confirm to you that they were all just lies!</s>

…If only you could locate her and put an end to your insatiable curiosity!

Annoyed, you once again glared at Sylvain. You truly hadn’t intended to sneak around! How dare he accuse you otherwise!

“…Is it always this quiet at night?” he suddenly asked, looking around.

You blinked, and mimicked him. Many of the students had returned to their rooms, and a few knights were still on duty. There was a curfew in place for both the students and teachers, so you weren’t surprised to see the lack of people around you.

“Isn’t it scary?” you goaded. 

He actually nodded his head. “It’s downright creepy.”

Finally! Someone that _understood_ you! For a moment, you were willing to discard all of your bad thoughts about Sylvain until he opened his mouth again and you were back to thinking the worst of him—

“…I can totally see why ghosts would want to choose this as their roaming grounds.”

“I hate you.” You really, _really_ meant it. He was _so_ annoying!

He laughed loudly and once again threw an arm around your shoulder. You continued to ignore him even when he apologized for not taking pity upon your plight, even as you opened the door to your room and he followed in. You were too petty to respond and when you caught sight of your nice and cozy bed, you immediately —though sluggishly— crawled into it. You pulled the covers over your head and turned so that your back was facing him.

“Good night, Syl.” Once your head hit your pillow, you felt exhaustion overcome you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, and so, you immediately fell asleep. 

Whether he responded or not, you did not know. If you had stayed conscious for even a few more minutes —even a few more seconds— you would have noticed the light footsteps approaching you. You would have felt your covers being adjusted so that you weren’t smothered by it in your sleep. And, you might have heard a soft response in return, one that also wished you a good night, said in a voice that was also filled with warmth—from the heart.


	7. Girl Pilot

For once, you showed up on time. At the training grounds, no less. Getting up early wasn’t ideal, but Felix was expecting you, and so, you forced yourself out of bed on time to meet up with him. Though, not before ensuring that you were able to pick up a quick to-go breakfast from the dining hall that morning. 

Felix looked as though he had already been training since hours ago, which was likely the case. Sweat matted his hairline and he wore a fitted, long-sleeved undershirt. He was the only one in the room, so when you arrived, he was quick to notice you.

You barely caught the sword that he had tossed to you. As a matter of fact, you didn’t. You saw it coming, but when given the option of catching it with your hand and letting your breakfast drop to the floor or saving your meal and letting the sword fall? It was a no brainer. 

He stared at you unhappily, and you bit into your sandwich unapologetically.

“What do you want?” you complained. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Which is a first in itself,” he retorted. “It’s a miracle that I didn’t have to drag you out of bed again.”

The last time that you had failed to show up to a training session with him, he really did drag you out of bed. That, and he basically yelled at you throughout the entire time that you sparred. It wasn’t much fun to have been both physically and verbally assaulted. 

He turned away from you to practice by himself. “You have five minutes.”

That was enough time. You promptly inhaled the rest of your food and dusted off your fingers. Sure, it would have been nice to be able to digest your food properly, but Felix couldn’t complain if you threw up on him. 

Before you picked up the sword he had thrown your way, you stretched quickly to warm up. When you were prepared, you grabbed it and braced yourself in front of Felix. 

“Go easy—“ You didn’t get to finish your request. Felix immediately went on the offence as he drew towards you. You parried his attack instinctively, but he was quick to move again. 

Truthfully, you weren’t the best at swordplay. You were more of a long-range combatant who also specialized in _close counter defence_ but when it came to close-quarter offence, you weren’t as good as Felix or Dimitri. You couldn’t be considered strong, but Felix had always sought you out whenever Sylvain or Dimitri were unavailable. By now, you had gotten used to the routine even though you did your best to avoid it. 

By now, you knew better than to attempt to get a direct hit in against Felix. So, you did what you knew best: you continued to block every single one of his attacks. He was rapid with his attacks—faster than you remembered him to be. His training was definitely paying off, but it was almost wild the way that he fought against you even if it was just for practice. A few minutes in, you found yourself already starting to grow weary.

“Don’t run away!” he scowled at you.

You wanted to protest that there wasn’t an opening for you to attack to begin with, but you couldn’t get a word in. 

“Fight me the way you would an enemy!” 

“Have you _seen_ me fight?!” you cried pitifully. You always hid and attacked your enemies from afar. 

Once, you had to fight Bernadetta in a practice battle, and the both of you had basically run around the field to take advantage of the nearby landscape. Neither of you had done much attacking because you weren’t willing to come out of your hiding spot, and Bernadetta was too timid to do the chasing. Needless to say, it was a very long and dragged-out battle, and did not end until the teacher had called it a day once the sun had already set. 

He was aggressive in his attacks. You barely had a second to yourself before he was moving again. Felix was powerful and swift on his feet but—it had to have said something when you were fifteen minutes in and he still hadn’t managed a solid hit on you. He commanded your every focus. You knew that if you strayed for even a second, then it would be your loss. And, granted, you would respectfully accept one, but it didn’t mean that Felix would allow you to lose. He liked asserting his strength, but hated people showing their weaknesses even more.

You pushed forward, frustrated at how aggressive he was being. He was angry, you could sense that he was. You weren’t sure what for, but you knew that anger was a dangerous emotion to feel on the battlefield. 

You didn’t attack, but you pushed him back with the blunt side of your sword. His eyes went wide in surprise, having not expected your strength but—even a cornered rat knew how to bite back. Wood clashed against wood. If it were steel, you might have seen sparks ignite. 

Felix stumbled back a few steps, but quickly regained his foothold. You caught onto his footwork and impulsively struck your foot out. He narrowly missed your kick and you scoffed at him.

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you said. You never hid the fact that you fought dirty. 

He scowled and thrust his sword against yours so powerfully that it sent you tumbling back. You almost fell completely if he hadn’t extended his hand out to catch you only to immediately swing at your shoulder. You ducked just in time to swing your own sword back at him, mimicking his movements, but instead of his torso, you aimed for his forearm. 

It was a direct hit, but his grasp around his sword remained firm.

“Again!” he demanded. Was he a masochist?! You wanted to cry. Twenty minutes in and that was the only hit that you managed and it hadn’t even phased him! 

Sweat dripped down the side of your forehead. Felix wasn’t going to let up, and thus, you were forced to continue. 

Your match went on long, but neither of you were able to manage a solid hit onto one another. Every time he took a step to the right, your feet instinctively moved with him. If he pulled back to prepare to attack, you moved forward. It was like a well-coordinated dance with no end in sight. After a while, you had barely even noticed your own fatigue. All that you wanted to do was to get him to ease up on you, and, just as you gritted your teeth and narrowed your eyes—as your mood shifted from duty to utter annoyance, you slipped forward. 

A hard whack hit you in your side. Your sword immediately fell to the floor and, from the corner of your eye, you saw Felix toss aside his. He caught you just as you fell, and the both of you toppled to the floor with him cushioning you.

His arms held onto you safely, but you were too tired to move. You panted above him as your head rested against his torso. 

When you finally regained some semblance of breath, you looked up at him and saw that his eyes were closed—furrowed, and his jaw was clenched.

“Feeling better?” You hoped that he did. Felix was quick-tempered, but rarely angry. He reserved his anger for a few select problems and when he had no outlet for them, it almost always came out in his battles. 

He opened his eyes to glare at you. “Why didn’t you dodge?”

“How was I supposed to know?” you retorted, with the roll of your eyes, and finally pushed yourself off of him to inspect your bruise. You made sure to dig your palm into his stomach roughly, to which he grunted at. 

It hadn’t been long since he had hit you, but the bruise on your side was already dark and swollen. You touched it, and winced when it stung. It hurt more than a regular bruise, and, upon closer inspection, you saw that the skin had broken. Blood started to appear, and this time, actually wanted to cry. 

“…Does it hurt?”

You promptly glared at him. Wasn’t it obvious?!

He looked away. “Can you stand?” Felix didn’t wait for your response. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, then set you down at one of the tables on the opposite side of the hall. He pushed your shirt up so that he could see your stomach for himself, though he didn’t reveal anymore skin than was necessary. 

You didn’t see any reason to push him away. It wasn’t like you were strangers. Furthermore, he had already seen a glimpse of your stomach when you had done the same action earlier.

Your stomach growled. He looked up at you, and you met his gaze squarely. You weren’t ashamed at this either. 

Breathing out a huff of air, he quietly ghosted his palm over your skin, and you didn’t say anything as he concentrated on his magic. A white-green glow appeared and you felt your skin start to cool. Neither you nor Felix were proficient in magic, but you knew enough to tend to small wounds like this. By the time that he was finished, your opened skin had closed up and the swelling had gone down. The discolouration had also faded, but still remained faint. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough.

He rose, straightening his back, while you poked at your bruise just to see if it still hurt. “Don’t touch it!” 

It didn’t, and you smiled innocently at him. “Still want to train?”

He looked away. “…You kept me on my toes for almost a full hour.”

Did you really? It felt as though you were the one trying to anticipate his moves, rather than the opposite. Nevertheless, you were delighted to know that he also struggled as badly as you did.

“Especially that hit that you landed on me.” Recalling it, he pushed up his sleeve. A small bruise had formed, but nothing as terrible as the one he had given you. “…You really do know how to surprise people.”

You tilted your head. “Does this mean that I won?”

“Don’t even think about it,” he scoffed. “We’re settling this after we get a proper breakfast!”

He started to walk away, and you hopped off of the table to chase after him. “I didn’t consent to a rematch!”

“Like you have a choice!”

Felix was already a few feet ahead of you, and, you considered running in the opposite direction to escape him. However, as though he had read your thoughts, he turned around to glare at you again. Then, suddenly, his glare softened. He called out your name—and you felt a shiver run up your spine. This was way too ominous. You promptly froze in your spot and awaited your death sentence.

“Why can’t you stay out of trouble?” he asked, sounding exasperated. You were about to interrupt when he continued, “If I hear anything about you these days, it’s guaranteed to be a bunch of crap!”

You were surprised, but considered it, and nodded your head in agreement. It was true, you supposed. As much as you liked to keep a low-profile, you weren’t ignorant to the boredom that plagued the monastery. Students and faculty alike tended to indulge in gossip, regardless of how much truth was behind them, if any.

The other day, there was even a rumour spread that Hubert had laughed! Supposedly Bernadetta had said something to his delight, and he had actually laughed aloud! You weren’t sure if it was true or not, but you were inclined to believe that it was fiction. It was way too scary to consider otherwise.

There was also that time where Lorenz had been rejected by a local maiden despite flaunting his nobility and assets. She hadn’t been impressed, and had even called him gross to his face. (This, you knew was a fact, because… You may or may not have spread that rumour… But he deserved it! After the way that he had criticized your grooming skills! It was one thing to insult you, but you wouldn’t let anyone insult your precious mare!)

As for yourself? You knew that other people called you a coward from Faerghus, but you weren’t bothered. So what if you had an irrational fear of the supernatural? So what if you hid in the bushes instead of confronting your enemies directly? You never let either of those deficiencies stop you from getting your duties accomplished!

“Even if I could control their mouths, it’s not like I can control their thoughts,” you said, shrugging. “‘Sides, I thought you didn’t care about stuff like that.”

“I don’t.”

“So then why?”

He seemed conflicted, as though he were unsure to even bring it up, but then settled his mind. “Sylvain? Of anyone that you could have? I thought that you at least had standards.”

You gasped, shocked that he had already known. It had only been a night since you officially agreed to assist Sylvain. You didn’t think that it would have spread that quickly.

He raised an eyebrow at you, awaiting your response.

“About that…” When confronted like this, in such an accusatory manner, you had no choice but to tell him the truth. You and Sylvain saw Felix every day too, and it would have been difficult to keep up the act around your own house members. Besides, Ingrid was already pestering you about it, and you were going to tell her eventually. “Remember that girl problem I told you about the other day? Well, it _does_ involve another girl… And she won’t leave Sylvain alone, so I’m just filling in the role of his partner until she gives up on him. We’re not actually dating, though. He tried to ask Ingrid, too, but she’s currently mad at him…”

Again, it wasn’t the entire truth, but Felix didn’t need to know every single detail. 

“You—“ he started to sound annoyed again. You braced yourself for his lecture, but it didn’t come. “It really is a bunch of crap.”

Unable to help it, you laughed. “I’ll just consider it that I owe Sylvain from a previous lifetime or something. I already said that I would help him anyway.”

“It’s already clear that you have no backbone, but being obviously taken advantage of is a new low, even for you.” 

“Don’t you agree that they should grant me Sainthood for this?” 

You could already picture it now: a statue being erected in your honour. Should it be placed on the Monastery grounds? It would be cool to have one in your own home, too. What if you got one in Fhridiad? They would have to designate a day of celebration in your honour too, wouldn’t they? 

Your imagination was promptly interrupted.

“Only if it’s in the name of foolery,” he snorted.

You scowled. If your ancestor could con his way into nobility, then why couldn’t you con your way into Sainthood? 

“I’ll take it.”

He rolled his eyes began to walk ahead of you. You followed after him quickly. 

By the time that you reached the mess hall, Felix seemed less tense than he had earlier. Even though you were the one who was wounded, you didn’t hold it against him. You knew that he could be intense when it came to his training. You had been worried that he had been angry, but now that you knew why —and had been able to appease him— you felt relieved. A Felix who simmered upon his thoughts was scarier than an angry one. 

It was why you decided not to ask him about how he had known that you and Sylvain were dating, or why he was with Whitney the previous night. Just as he did not need to know everything about you, you decided that you didn’t need to know everything about him either. Some things were better left as they were. 

Later, in the future, when faced with a fork in the middle of the road, you would consider this to be one of the options as well. You were a curious person, but you were not forceful. You would not contend for what was not yours, nor would you press beyond your limits. But such a way of living… could also be considered foolish.


	8. Favourite Words

You were being followed, you were certain of it. 

Curfew had started nearly an hour ago so there shouldn’t have been anyone wandering aside from the knights and teachers. Though, to be fair, even you shouldn’t have been wandering outside… But you were never a fan of curfews. Even back home, you always broke curfew whenever you could. Once your parents realized that you simply could not be tamed, they settled for leaving some lanterns on for you every night until you returned home. 

Nevertheless, you had known this particular side of the school like the back of your hand. It didn’t mean that you liked it, of course, and you were careful to stay in the shadows of lit lanterns. 

Currently, you were hiding behind a wall, watching to make sure that no guards were on sight. However, you couldn’t shake off that feeling that you were being watched. Or followed. You weren’t sure which was worse, except that it made you want to get the hell out of there quickly.

You were too afraid to even look back, and were about to take a step forward when you felt something on your shoulder. Your response was graceful and poised: you gasped and instinctively swung your leg out to kick at your assailant only to have your leg caught mid-way, and your mouth muffed by… a… warm hand? 

Actually, it was a sweaty hand, and you swatted at it upon realization. It was definitely human, and you cursed the scumbag to hell, two floors deep, for sneaking up on you. 

“Oh, sorry.” It was Sylvain, and he removed his hand from your mouth to wipe on his clothes. “Why are you being so creepy?”

“_Me_?” You were appalled. “You’re the one sneaking up on poor, defenceless girls!”

He looked equally stunned. “You really believe that you’re poor and defenceless?”

“That’s besides the point,” you waved off his statement. “Have you been following me this entire time?”

“What? No. I just saw you…”

If that was the case, then why did you swear that someone had been following you for much longer? 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

You looked up at him pitifully. “I’m being followed.”

He actually laughed. “Really? By what? A sentient?”

You scowled, and pushed him away, and then set forth down the path once you were certain that it was devoid of any guards.

Sylvain fell into step beside you.

“Why are you here so early?” you asked. 

You were typically the first to head out, followed by Felix, then Sylvain, then Ingrid, and lastly, Dimitri. You always waited at almost three quarters of an hour before you officially headed out, and the others came after fifteen-twenty minute intervals. 

Tonight, you left especially early. It had only been a half-hour before curfew had started, and at least an extra fifteen minutes before you were supposed to sneak out. 

“Why are _you_?” he quipped back. 

“And you say that I’m the one being creepy,” you mumbled. 

He laughed, and threw his arms behind his head. “I was training with our new professor… Man, he really knows how to lay one on ya.” 

To emphasize his worn out state, he rolled a shoulder and you heard a distinct pop. You eyed him critically. Sylvain wasn’t a slacker, but he wasn’t a hard worker either. His talents came to him naturally. Though, you supposed that there were people like that: ones who got everything without much, if any, effort. It was enviable. 

“Maybe you’re just out of shape.” You were petty, but you never said that you were magnanimous. His physique couldn’t stay perfect forever. The sooner that he lost that statuesque appearance, the better. Maybe then, you’d be on a more even playing field. 

Then again, you couldn’t really imagine him with a pot belly either… Or balding. 

You shuddered at the thought. No, it was probably better for him to stay fit, after all…

“Can’t have that happening,” he quipped. “Can you imagine how many hearts it would break?” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I told Felix I’d switch times with him tonight since I was going to be out late. Tried to tell you too, but I couldn’t find you all day.”

Oh. That was because you were trying to avoid him all day. Not that you would tell him, of course. But a girl could only be around Sylvain so much before she got tired of him. His exes were evidence of that. 

“Ah, did you?” you looked away, squinting into the distance. When you thought you saw the shine of some armour, you quickly pulled Sylvain behind a tree. “Where was this offer when we initially drew sticks?”

He laughed. “And let myself get caught? No way. Besides, you’ve been doing a pretty great job at hiding in the shadows.”

You scowled. You were the one that put your life at risk every time you snuck out past curfew. The first always had so much more to lose than anyone who came after… You nearly got caught once, too, but you wormed your way out of it with a bullshit “I’ve got my period so I’m just looking for some hygiene products...”

“Yeah, I can’t use that excuse,” Sylvain admitted, though he didn’t seem as depressed as you wanted him to be. 

“No, the only one you could use is that you’re doing the walk of shame.”

You pulled him closer to the walls of the school, sticking close to the walls. At least with Sylvain here, you weren’t as afraid of the shadows. Or getting caught. Sometimes, he could be useful. 

“If we’re going by that theory, then aren’t you doing it with me?” he grinned. 

You stared, bewildered, then smacked his arm. “S-shut up,” you said. “I would _never_!”__

_ _After a few minutes, you finally reached the ghost house. It was empty as usual, and Sylvain went to light a small candle in the middle of the room. _ _

_ _Meanwhile, you went around pulling out chairs and searching through desks. You even hugged the walls while pressing here and there to activate any trap mechanisms. You never did find any, but that never deterred you from trying anyway. _ _

_ _Sylvain watched you from the centre of the room, with his arms crossed. “Is this why you left earlier than usual?” _ _

_ _You nodded. “I really did hear voices last time…”_ _

_ _You heard an audible sigh, and then he was searching the room with you. It was a difficult process due to the limited light, so you were thankful for the extra help. Even if he didn’t entirely believe you. _ _

_ _“Have you spoken to Ingrid?” you asked. _ _

_ _“Not really. She’s still pretty mad at me… I saw her earlier and she started chewing my ear off for playing with innocent girls’ hearts. Then, she lectured me about cleaning up my act… Her voice kept getting louder and louder, and I’m pretty sure the entire school heard her…” He grimaced at the reminder. After her exposure, whispers went around the yard. They hadn’t been subtle either. What was worse was that they weren’t entirely wrong; most of the accusations from both Ingrid and the audience had at least _some_ truth to them._ _

_ _It wasn’t like you could blame her. Ever since you were children, Ingrid had cleaned up the aftermath of Sylvain’s conquests. His trysts escalated even more when you started attending the academy. She had already been upset with him about Whitney, but you were sure that she was furious after she heard about you and him. Case in point: she had gotten mad at you, whom she never got angry at before. _ _

_ _“Well, you might want to think about what to say to her.” you said. He immediately stopped what he was doing to turn to you._ _

_ _“What?” _ _

_ _“I was thinking,” you purposefully avoided his gaze. “Let’s tell the others about us.”_ _

_ _“Why?” _ _

_ _You thought about it. It made no sense to keep it a secret from them. Ingrid aside, even Felix had gotten mad at you. Dimitri probably wouldn’t care much, but you suspected that he would lose what little respect he had for you. He had never been shy about his disapproval of Sylvain’s philandering ways; less so about the partners who even agreed to keep him company in spite of his notoriety. _ _

_ _Furthermore, you dreaded any awkwardness that might come from any misunderstandings. It was bad enough that there was already tension between Felix and Dimitri, but you didn’t want to add to it. _ _

_ _“Felix got mad at you?” Sylvain was surprised._ _

_ _You shrugged. “Yeah, well, he seemed pretty mad mostly at the fact that I’m throwing my reputation to the shitter… But it’s not like I’ve done it willingly.”_ _

_ _“No, running around the school screaming about ghosts; snooping around during the day and at night; eavesdropping on Seteth and getting caught—which was a rookie mistake, by the way; waking up late almost every day did it…” He grinned, and you threw an old, dusty book at him. _ _

_ _It fell to the floor, and the sound made you and Sylvain quickly duck and hide in a corner of the room. He quickly ran to blow out the candle, then returned to the corner that you hid in, stepping on your foot by accident. After a few seconds passed and no guards had appeared, you settled out of the shadows. Though, not without “accidentally” stepping on his foot back either._ _

_ _“Can’t we choose a less creepy place to have our meetings?” you complained. _ _

_ _Dimitri had a sick sense of humour. You were the one who found the ghost house — which wasn’t really a secret, but up until you had given it the moniker, it had been known as the former study hall. When your group of childhood miscreants arrived at the school, it quickly became clear that the school was strict with its rules and regulations. You hardly had a moment to yourself, one that wasn’t occupied with something school-related. _ _

_ _Thus, when Ingrid lamented the fact, it was Dimitri who (jokingly?) suggested that you all met up at least once a week to talk about things that weren’t school related. At least that way, you could keep up with your personal affairs and remain close-knit as always. It was also a means for you all to de-stress from routine._ _

_ _It was bad enough that for childhood friends, you lived in different territories. Even when you attended the mandatory schools in Fhirdiad, you had lived in separate dorms. Nevertheless, you still made time for each other. It had been easier then, of course. _ _

_ _Rules were stricter at the Garreg Mach, so you drew sticks to determine the order of who should sneak out. You had the luck of drawing the shortest stick, which meant that you would be the first to risk their life and sneak out past curfew. Over time, you became quite good at it. But that was a craft that you had worked to perfect, and even then, there were still a few flaws to it. _ _

_ _“What, and take away your opportunity to snoop around at grade A real estate?” _ _

_ _“Ah, that’s right,” you cursed the fact. Truthfully, you had gotten used to sneaking around the grounds. There was so much to explore and discover. Garreg Mach Monastery was a trove of secrets waiting to be uncovered and you wanted to know as much as you could._ _

_ _“What are you thinking of telling the others?” he asked, changing the subject back._ _

_ _You considered it, then thought to tell them something similar to what you told Felix. They didn’t need to know the entire story, just enough to know that you weren’t certified insane yet. _ _

_ _“Any luck with Whitney?” you asked. _ _

_ _He shrugged, while you pulled out a board game hidden in one of the desks. It was old, but it was something that you found when you took over the ghost house. The game was still usable, and it was a decent pass time for while you waited for the others. _ _

_ _“I saw her in one of the common Golden Deer sessions,” he said, “She saw me too, but I ran before she could approach.”_ _

_ _You didn’t know why you set up the game. Sylvain had already taken out one of your knights and you had just started. _ _

_ _“Have you just considered hearing her out?” you asked him. “She probably just wants closure…”_ _

_ _“I wouldn’t know how to respond,” he replied. “You know I hate it when girls cry… Or throw themselves at me. What? Don’t give me that look—it’s true! Yeah, I know—big shocker.”_ _

_ _You rolled your eyes at him, then moved a tile. “She’s already at the school. I don’t think it’ll be possible for you to elude her forever… Besides, what about the other girl that you like? She probably wouldn’t like it if one of your exes was still clinging onto you. You should do the responsible and mature thing, Sylvain.”_ _

_ _“And what is the responsible thing?” You hadn’t expected that response. In fact, you were expecting for him to change the subject. Sylvain was always hard-pressed to talk about serious subjects and he almost always broke away with a flimsy excuse or changed it with an unnecessary joke. _ _

_ _You looked up, meeting his gaze across from you. He stayed sitting straight, though his eyes were dark and fixated on you. Your breath got caught in your throat. For some reason, you felt as if you were treading on thin ice. Which, for all of your antics in the past and present, had rarely landed you in before. There were only a few select times where he had gotten short with you._ _

_ _Now that you thought about it, it seemed to be a recurring thing with him whenever you brought her up. It had happened at least one or two other times before. _ _

_ _“I—I don’t know,” you looked away, intimidated by the look he was giving you. You probably should have kept your mouth shut. _ _

_ _“Let’s just stop talking about her,” he said. “You can tell the others what you want, but I don’t think there’s anything else to say to Whitney. It’s done.”_ _

_ _You couldn’t fathom why he was so adamant against meeting Whitney. Sure, confrontation was awkward and difficult for most people, but Sylvain had gone through the routine so many times by now. You would think that he was used to it, and that he would have steeled his nerves by now… Especially if he was already thinking of moving on with someone else._ _

_ _“Sylvain…” You started; it was only a hunch. You had no concrete evidence to back it up with, but, you were curious. “Does this have anything to do with the girl that you like? Are you actually not using me as a shield against Whitney, but… as bait for your new amor?” _ _

_ _It made _some_ sense if you thought it that way. If he cut things off with Whitney, then there was no need for you to pretend to date him. But if he were intending on luring out his new lover, then jealousy was also a powerful motivator. If they saw him being lovey-dovey with you, wouldn’t they make their feelings more known?_ _

_ _Then, you frowned. Wasn’t it too complicated? Then again, maybe he preferred it that way. You knew that some people preferred the chase and got complacent once they acquired the prize. Perhaps he was also similar in that aspect._ _

_ _You leaned your head in your palm, staring at him, deciding that was probably the case. “Sylvain… You can’t expect sincerity if you’re always hiding yourself.”_ _

_ _“I’ve never hidden myself from _you_, have I?” He was definitely annoyed now. There was a tilt in his tone and his eyes took on a darker light. _ _

_ _You didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. It was different. You and Sylvain had grown up together. He practically had no choice in revealing himself to you. But as he got older, he hid more and more of himself from other people. Sylvain was a popular guy, but the amount of people that he truly let in was easily countable on his fingers._ _

_ _It wasn’t as though you were the exception. Ingrid, Felix, and Dimitri were as close to him as you were._ _

_ _“No, so it can’t be that hard letting others in, right?” you countered, and, on the board, took out one of his rooks._ _

_ _Sylvain laughed. Then, it morphed into a groan as he ran his hands through his hair. “You—you’re really dense, sometimes, you know?”_ _

_ _You scowled. “Coming from someone who just lost his rook, I don’t want to hear that!”_ _

_ _“Just forget it,” he said, knocking back one of your pawn pieces easily. He was finished with the subject. “Are you going to compete in the tournament?” _ _

_ _“What tournament?”_ _

_ _“There’s a fighting tournament in the village, so it’s not organized by the academy. You’ll have to get permission from staff members of course, but the prize is supposed to be some riding armour made from Albinean steel.”_ _

_ _Your interest peaked. Albinea was a difficult place to travel to, and the land was quite barren in both agriculture and people. Their minerals and ores were just as sturdy as ones found in Almyra. However, due to the difficulty in accessing the lands, the trade was often monopolized by Almyra. _ _

_ _The only issue was on how to attain permission to join the tournament. Garreg Mach Monastery prohibited unnecessary cohabitation . They didn’t want their students disturbing the daily lives of people who lived nearby, which meant that even hunting and fishing required permission, not to speak of something as official as a tournament… _ _

_ _You weren’t a bad student, but you knew that professors and staff weren’t quite fond of your nosy ways. Plus, you almost caught Hanneman’s coat on fire once and he hadn’t appreciated it very much. The amount of people that you could convince to let you join wasn’t very much, and even then, you would need to exert much effort into getting their approval._ _

_ _Basically, you were doomed. _ _

_ _Or maybe not._ _

_ _You peered up at Sylvain, sweet, unsuspecting Sylvain. “Are you going to sign up?”_ _

_ _“_Me_?” he pondered it. “Why would I?”_ _

_ _“It might be fun?” you needed to approach this tenderly. If you were too obvious, then he wasn’t going to fight. Then, where and when would you get an opportunity to get your hands on Albinean riding gear? “Won’t you look even more dashing and handsome, if you were to win? Even if it’s not your mysterious amor, you’re guaranteed to captivate a few other lasses and lads. You probably wouldn’t even need to do much, since you’re so strong anyway…”_ _

_ _He leaned forward, chin in his hands, smiling charmingly at you. “You want me to fight for you, don’t you?” _ _

_ _When you refused to respond, his smiled widened. Though, the mirth in his eyes seemed to lessen, replaced with something more tender. It looked almost doting, in a way, as if you just needed to say the right words and he was putty in your hands. _ _

_ _You almost back-tracked. Had it always been this easy to trick Sylvain? Sweet-talk him a little bit and he was yours?_ _

_ _You decided to test the waters, and nodded your head eagerly. “There’s no one as stable and as well-rounded as you… Who else at the school is as dexterous and as strong? There isn’t any subject that you’re bad at, is there? It’s certain that you’ll win. It won’t be an issue getting permission from the staff either, since you’re such a likeable guy… Even Manuela had lamented the fact that she had such a handsome student…”_ _

_ _“And?” he asked. You noted that his voice went a few notches lower, barely a whisper, soft and gentle. He sounded almost vulnerable, if you didn’t know any better. “What about you? What do _you_ think of me?”_ _

_ _“What do _I_ think about you?” There really wasn’t much to think about him. Beyond his cultivated personality, it wasn’t as if he were abnormal, given the circumstances of his upbringing._ _

_ _You weren’t as special as him, so you didn’t have the same pressure or expectations placed unto you. Your family was also close-knit and supportive of each other. Things like inheritance didn’t really matter to any of you; your older sister has also tried to persuade you to inheriting the farm so she could wander off, but you weren’t that foolish to accept. _ _

_ _Sylvain was superficial and shallow, but he kept people at a distance even if he pretended otherwise. It was obvious in the way that he laughed, or the way that he smiled. He wasn’t as good as an actor as most assumed. The disdain and contempt for even his lover of the day—week— became clear whenever he gave them affectionate nicknames. Such things were meant to bring them closer, but for Sylvain, it was meant to draw a line: a difference in syntax to define the relationship. _ _

_ _If even family was closed off to him, then how could he consider a babe beyond that? _ _

_ _But for those that he was genuinely fond of, there was also a clear difference. He became more playful around them despite typically portraying a more mature, cool persona. He allowed his immaturity to show, and the less cool sides of him. For instance, not many people knew that he was an avid fan of the Saint Knight series or that he enjoyed playing board games. _ _

_ _For instance, he was currently playing along with you, wasn’t he? Even if it was to boost his own ego._ _

_ _But you didn’t think he needed to hear more frivolous words. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. You could sing praises of his cultivated personality, but it wasn’t the entire truth._ _

_ _“I think the same of you as any other,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear. For all of your previous words, Sylvain was just as normal and as human as any other. He excelled in many aspects, but he was also flawed. There was nothing about him that declared him on a pedestal greater than or lesser than anyone else._ _


	9. Blue Lions Breakfast Club

“So that’s it, huh?” he leaned back, ruminating over your words. It seemed as though he were asking himself that question, rather than you. 

You didn’t understand what he meant by that. What did he expect you to say? It wasn’t as if you had much to say regarding him. You didn’t see him in any particular light. He was just Sylvain to you, the same as any other. Sure, there were a few things unique to him, but it didn’t make him neither particularly likeable or unlikeable. What was wrong with having a neutral opinion?

You didn’t get the chance to inquire him about it. 

The door opened with a loud bang, making both you and Sylvain jump out of your seats. He promptly pulled you behind him. There was a low curse, and, from the dim lighting in the room, you saw a familiar silhouette at the entrance at the room. 

“Damn door,” Felix mumbled, glaring at the offending obtrusion. 

You relaxed from behind Sylvain’s arm. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you and Sylvain switch times?”

He shut the door closed —gently this time— and approached. There was a box in his hands that caught your attention. It was small and colourful, with a ribbon on top. It looked like a box meant to hold treats. You stared at it with unabashed curiosity. He bought sweets? 

He held it out towards you. Or, in Felix’s case—shoved it towards you. 

“Here,” he said, glancing away. “A little girl gave it to me, but you know I don’t like sweets.”

You were curious, but didn’t ask him about it. You took it without protest, and sat down, eager to unbox it. 

“Sylvain brought up the idea of switching times,” Felix finally replied, as he dragged a chair beside you, then glanced down at the board game. Sylvain returned to the one opposite of you. He kept an eye on the box, also curious about the content inside, but didn’t intrude on your space. “I just didn’t care to adhere to it.”

Ah. 

That made sense. In his own sort of brand. Felix was like that, often disregarding other people to do what he wanted. You weren’t surprised that he chose to respond that way. 

Sylvain on the other hand… A loud smack immediately followed Felix’s words. Evidently, he hadn’t considered that Felix would have done that. He had slapped his own forehead.

Beside you, Felix smirked. “If you wanted me to stay away, you shouldn’t have told me about your plans to begin with.”

“Duly noted. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Sylvain rested his cheek to the table, looking defeated and outwitted. 

Something was going on between them; you just weren’t sure what. It wasn’t the first time that you had sensed something suspicious between the both of them. You knew better than to ignore your instinct. After all, when you were children, there were a few instances where they had teamed up against you. Sylvain was the worst culprit in scheming against you, but it wasn’t as though Felix were any better. 

“What are you two keeping from me?” You eyed them carefully. 

Your self-preservation instincts went into overdrive. You pulled the pretty box close to your chest, ready to make a run for it if need be.

“Calm down,” Felix said, gesturing a hand towards you. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“No one said anything about something bad happening,” you quipped. 

“No one needed to. We all know how your imagination operates.” Sylvain joined in the conversation, leaning back. His chair tilted onto its back legs, and you thought about kicking him from underneath the table to make him fall over. 

“Forgive me for not having any faith,” you scowled. “Hadn’t it been the both of you who told me that Professor Hansen liked fish and longed to have an aquarium?”

Back at the preparatory school you attended in Faerghus, one of your teachers was a man by the name of Professor Hansen. He was your teacher for black magic arts, and you hadn’t been doing well in his class. In your desperation, Felix and Sylvain came to your aid. They convinced you that your teacher was really into aquatic species and wanted to catch a few fish for his own collection. You didn’t really care for the specifics—you were just eager to have leverage over your difficult teacher and abysmal grades. Thus, you spent an entire day fishing on the outskirts of the capital, and caught an entire bucket full of fish for him.

Little did you know, he actually did not in fact appreciate the creatures. In fact, he had an aversion to all fish regardless of type! 

Apparently, he had some sort of death-related trauma in his childhood. 

Apparently, Professor Hansen really did enjoy fish and fishing in his youth, but one day, he had reeled in a creature so gigantic that he almost lost his life—in that the creature had been so gigantic and Godlike that rather than being able to reel it in, the situation was the reverse. Professor Hansen had been dragged across the lake. 

It wasn’t something to laugh at, but when he told you the tale of his trauma, instead of sympathizing, you had bluntly asked him why he hadn’t just let go of the fishing rod.

Thus, the attempt to bribe your teacher had effectively backfired on you. He wrote a letter to your parents informing them of your abysmal grades and ignoble behaviour. This resulted in extra after-school lessons, but the worst part was when your parents decided to deduct your allowance for the month! 

“It’s not our fault that you’re gullible,” said Felix. 

This was clearly deflection! You didn’t believe either one of them, and made it obvious by glaring at them. 

Sadly, you lost your train of thought as you finally undid the ribbons safeguarding the box. Your eyes went wide upon revelation. It was so pretty and carefully made! Inside was a small cake that smelled absolutely divine. Wasn’t it from that nice bakery in town? You had passed by it a few times, but there was always a lineup. Mercedes and Annette had actually waited for it once, and much to your luck, had shared it with you afterwards. You had never tasted anything nearly as delicious as it since. 

You turned to look at Felix, reverently. “Can I really eat it?”

He cleared his throat, and looked away. “I’d throw it out otherwise.”

That was enough to convince you. One man’s garbage was another man’s treasure, after all! 

“Thanks, Felix!” Glee was written all over your face and you broke off a piece of the cake. It was even better than you remembered. 

“That good?” Sylvain asked.

You nodded your head, with your eyes closed, as you concentrated on the taste of the light and airy cake. It wasn’t too sweet, but it wasn’t bland either. Just the perfect amount! If you died now, it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. 

Felix was assessing the board game as you ate. While Sylvain seemed amused by your antics, Felix was unaffected. He asked whose turn it was, and, still in the middle of your cake-bliss, you nudged your chin towards Sylvain. 

His attention returned to the board, and, after a few moments, he made a new move. You hadn’t decided on your countermove yet when Felix moved a piece for you. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He returned the look with a smirk. 

An unspoken agreement went on between the both of you. Having caught on, Sylvain groaned. 

“Don’t fight her battles for her,” Sylvain said. 

“I can’t help it,” Felix retorted. “Who told her to be so pathetic? She’s clearly on the losing side.”

“That’s the point!” Sylvain snapped.

You frowned, but just as you swallowed the piece of cake, Felix cut you off. “Don’t speak. You’re terrible at board games. It pisses me off seeing you lose like this. To Sylvain, no less.”

You shrugged. He wasn’t lying. Compared to Sylvain, you weren’t good at board games. Not that many people were, of course.

“Have you heard about the tournament in town?” 

He didn’t even glance at you, so concentrated in the game. “I did. Why do you ask?”

“Are you joining?”

You looked up at Sylvain with a warning look, as if to tell him not to ruin it for you. You had a plan, and you would be damned if Sylvain messed it up for you.

He responded by folding his arms across his chest, and sneering. “Why would I? The only strong candidates around these parts are all within the academy grounds. It’d be considered bullying the weak, if I joined.”

A part of you considered your own position. True: most commoners didn’t have the formal training that you or many of the other students at the academy had. But also true was: you weren’t above bullying the weak, if need be. Your other house members as well as other students around campus could attest to that. More than once, you may have pressured some younger freshmen into doing your chores… You also may or may not have goaded Ignatz to do your homework on occasion as well. <s>It was why Hilda always gave you a dirty look whenever you were around—because when you took advantage of Ignatz, that meant that _she_ couldn’t. </s>

“Who knows? There might be some strong people…” You tried luring him, but then you quickly realized that if he joined —and if _you_ joined— then you didn’t really want to fight Felix in the tournament… You dreaded the idea of having him as an official opponent. 

But you really wanted the prize!! 

He actually snorted in response, as if he had read your thoughts. It made you frown. Why did it always seem like he knew what you were thinking? You blew out a puff of hot air, and looked away. 

Suddenly, he changed the subject, as he knocked back one of Sylvain’s pieces. “I saw Whitney the other night.”

You froze. You and Sylvain quickly exchanged glances and waited for him to continue. 

“She wanted to know if it was true that you two were dating,” he said. “I told her that we had known each other since young.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t just bite her head off,” you muttered. He heard you, and sent you a glare. 

“She didn’t care about that; she was under the impression that you weren’t his type, given that she had heard about your infamy.” You scowled. Your reputation preceded beyond the school walls?! After all that work you had cultivated into being a nobody? Were people at Garreg Mach that depraved for gossip? You were certain that there were other, more interesting stories to talk about! <s>Otherwise, you might have to create some yourself.</s> “I told her that Sylvain wasn’t picky.”

“You should’ve told her that I had standards,” you quipped. 

“I thought about it, but it was unlikely that she would have believed me. For some unfathomable reason yet to an _astounding_ amount of people, Sylvain is actually considered a good catch.”

Sylvain hummed in satisfaction, and you rolled your eyes. Felix might as well have told Sylvain that he’d been officially turned God-rank in desirability. Even you had your limits as to how much you were willing to stroke his ego. Not that you really needed to—you were certain that you almost had him earlier, had Felix not arrived unexpectedly.

“—And then I told her that if she ever came to me about such unfounded crap again, then I would have a meeting with her father using my fists.” 

Ah. The not-so-subtle Fraldarius tongue. Neither he nor Glenn preferred using speech. They were both men who got their words across using actions. Though, the elder of the two had been slightly more eloquent compared to his younger sibling. 

When it came from Felix, it sounded more like a bandit ushering threats.

For a second, you actually felt sorry for Whitney. You weren’t sure what her motives were in going to see Felix, but you knew that he wasn’t the easiest person to deal with. It was a rookie mistake; one should have known their opponent before confronting them.

“But you,” Felix continued, directing his vitriol to Sylvain now. “After all that she’s done for you ever since we were children, like that time you broke my training sword—“

“_You knew?_” you piped in, shocked. “If you knew, then why did you get mad at _me_?”

“It was because you let Sylvain use you!” he snapped. “But that’s besides the point. It’s already obvious that you’re willing to let yourself get used by just about anyone—”

“Not true!” 

He ignored your protest to look at Sylvain again. “I thought that out of all things, at least you wouldn’t manipulate her in your romantic schemes. What happened to that sincerity you mentioned before?”

Something about the way that he phrased it seemed off to you, but you weren’t sure what it was. You looked at Sylvain for clarification, but his lips had turned a hard set. His eyebrows furrowed and—was that guilt? You had to do a double-take. 

It must have hurt, especially given that you mentioned the same thing earlier. Except, you hadn’t meant to criticize him. It was the opposite, in fact. You had only wanted to advise him.

You brought a hand to Felix’s shoulder, hoping to get him to back off and ease the tension from both boys when the door opened. This time, it was Ingrid. She pulled a chair over to sit between you and Sylvain. 

With her here, Felix quieted. It didn’t involve her, and he didn’t want to air any unnecessary dirty laundry, but you could tell that he was still dissatisfied. 

He looked away with a frown. Even though Ingrid was speaking and catching up with you all, you kept your gaze on Felix. You waited and—just as you predicted, after a few seconds, he whipped his head back. As soon as his mouth opened, you shoved a piece of cake into his mouth. His eyes went wide; crumbs of the cake littered his lips. Around you, Ingrid and Sylvain had matching expressions of horror. 

You froze, unable to process what you had done long even after many seconds had passed. You didn’t know what to think or what to assume. All you knew was that there was a good chance that you really were going to die tonight. 

Yet, even more foolish was when you brought a hand to his throat and started rubbing, as if to coax him to swallowing the cake. 

He promptly started too sputter. Or was it choking? Your eyes went wide in panic and your mind went into overdrive. You leapt over towards him to help him, but he raised a hand and kept you away. 

He turned the other way. After a few moments, he finally stopped sputtering but when he looked at you, it was once again with a wide-eyed expression. Surprise and bewilderment was evident on his face, but what was much more shocking to you was the lack of anger. He didn’t even look irritated!

“Was it… good?” you cursed yourself for the lack of functioning brain cells. 

He cleared his throat, but averted your hopeful gaze. He didn’t respond, but you took that as a sign that he didn’t entirely hate it.

Ingrid tugged at your sleeve as discreetly as she could. When you locked eyes with her, she had one of confusion, secretly asking you what that was about. You shook your head and pretended that you didn’t understand—which was partially true, but it was too much to explain what you did understand to her. You were just thankful to have averted crisis. Nevertheless, your little antics seemed to do the trick; Felix dropped the subject entirely. 

Finally, a short while later, Dimitri arrived. The atmosphere in the room wasn’t the same as usual, but you were hoping that it wasn’t too obvious. Clearly, he had no tact nor understanding because the second that he arrived, he was quick to assess the situation. 

“Did you two get into another fight?” he asked, staring between Sylvain and Felix. 

Sometimes… Sometimes, you really wanted to knock some sense into Dimitri! Even if you needed to use force! 

…That day was not today. 

“Actually, there’s something that I was hoping to discuss with you all,” you said, changing the subject. 

Dimitri raised an eyebrow, but grabbed a chair anyway, and sat between Ingrid and Sylvain. Once he was comfortable, you explained your current situation with Sylvain. Neither of them seemed impressed. Even Felix, who had known before either of them, scoffed once you were finished.

“I… am not sure how I feel about this,” Dimitri said. “Do you think your plan will work? Sylvain, given that Whitney has been pursuing you so relentlessly, are you sure that this won’t backfire on either of you? It’s one thing to have an undesirable break-up with someone, but I don’t think you should drag innocent parties into this…”

Ingrid nodded her head. “I agree with Dimitri. Isn’t this a bit contrived, even for the both of you? From what I know, the break-up was completely one-sided, so I don’t think it’s wrong for Whitney to want a proper ending. She’s not a narrow-minded person. If you just sat down with her face-to-face—“

“Out of the question,” Sylvain said. “It just wouldn’t work; there’s no point, Ingrid. I agreed to meet her a few days after I broke up with her, but she was still persistent in getting back together… I’m seriously at my wits end trying to get through to her.” 

“I don’t entirely understand why she’s so enamoured with you, but it’s not wrong for her to express a desire to wait for you to mature and grow up.”

“I don’t want to give her any hope that I’m incapable of giving. It’s best for me to cease any and all contact with her. Whose to say that meeting her would give her the closure she wants, anyway?”

You hadn’t considered it that way before. You had thought that he had been cruel the other night, but when you looked at it this way, it made sense. In a sort of outlandish, complicated way…

His words seemed to have gotten through to not only you, but also Ingrid, Dimitri, and Felix. She finally relented. Then, she pulled you close to her.

“Whitney is one thing, but if you ever hurt _her_, then I’ll never forgive you.”

Felix didn’t need to say anything. The fact that he had been on your side since the beginning said it all. Now, there was even Dimitri in the mix, as he postured closer towards Ingrid as well. 

“I’m sorry, Sylvain. I can’t say that I completely understand your complicated love life, but I am with Ingrid on this one. One of these days, you are going to have to learn to take responsibility for your actions and yourself. You can’t always expect others to clean up after you’re messes. I don’t think that it’s fair for you to keep dragging innocent people into your messes.”

It wasn’t unjustified; you could understand where the others were coming from. Yet when you saw that still-remaining guilt upon Sylvain’s face, you couldn’t help it. You actually started to feel pity for him. Granted, it was his actions that created his mess to begin with, but it was clear that he had taken on more than he could handle. Sylvain wasn’t normally this desperate, not unless he was overwhelmed. You could only remember a handful of times where he couldn’t perform to an adequate conclusion.

Even though you had been against it in the beginning, you had already made up your mind to help him. You wanted to see things through to the end.

“How about this,” you started, hoping to give him some leeway from the pressure the others were creating. “I’ll help you with Whitney, and in exchange, you’ll help me with the tournament.”

“You’re joining?” Dimitri was surprised. You didn’t have a chance to correct him when he beamed at you, looking like a proud parent. Or in this case, a proud house leader. “This is marvellous! You’ve decided to take your training seriously, I presume? You have so much more potential than you let on and it is fantastic news to know that you are going to apply yourself.”

“I—” 

That wasn’t what you wanted at all! _Read the room, Dimitri!_ When did you say that you were going to join the tournament yourself? Why would you need Sylvain to train you when he could easily fight for you? He could wipe the floor with a single flick of his lance if he bothered to do so! 

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Sarcasm laced Felix’s voice. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. “This’ll be the first time that a student from Garreg Mach Academy actually gets beaten by a commoner!”

“Stop that,” you scowled, kicking at him underneath the table. 

“We can’t have that,” Dimitri said, frowning. He turned to Sylvain. “So it’s settled then: in exchange for her helping you out with Whitney, then in return, you’ll assist her with the tournament. I have my full faith in you that you’ll be able to train her properly.”

Didn’t you have a say in it? You opened your mouth to protest, but Sylvain didn’t let you have a word in.

He actually kicked back, once again tilting his chair onto its back legs, and grinned wickedly. “If you have my full faith, then I can’t disappoint either of you, now can I?”

You followed the movement of his hand: he had moved a piece on the board, effectively conquering your side of the board. You looked back up at him and saw the words on his lips, but just as he had done to you earlier, you didn’t let him say it. This time, you actually kicked at his chair and made him fall over. 

_Check mate._


	10. Roleplay

Over the next few days, you publicly played the role of Sylvain’s girlfriend. He was much more affectionate and showy than you had assumed he would have been. He held your hand at every chance he got and slung his arm around your shoulder even when it was in the middle of a casual conversation with others. He never missed a chance to hold you and stayed by your side whenever he could; Sylvain even held your books for you when you moved classes. 

You didn’t know how to react in the beginning. It was strange to see him being so affectionate. The first time that he held your hand, you instinctively pulled away. When he put his arm around your shoulder, you threw it off. When he put his hand around your waist, you actually slapped it away. 

While he still persisted in holding your hand otherwise or having his arm over your shoulder, he didn’t dare to hold your waist again. 

Currently, you were in the knight’s hall, sitting at a table trying to actually do some schoolwork. He didn’t shy away from you even despite how busy it was. While you preferred studying in your room or at the library, Sylvain had wanted to study in the knight’s hall. However, his definition of studying was more mingling with others than actually doing any schoolwork. 

You frowned when raucous laughter broke through your concentration, and side-eyed the group of people sitting on the opposite side of him. You knew who they were and would have otherwise treated them with some decency, but they were distracting you and you could feel your irritation rise. You tried not to let it show too much, though. There was no point in picking a fight with them, but you didn’t know how much more you could handle their distractions. 

“…So you’re finally dating, huh?” 

You looked up here, the glare on your face an almost permanent fixture had you not caught yourself and fixed your expression. 

Sylvain laughed. “It surprised me too.”

“Man, your fan club was so heartbroken when they found out,” his friend said. “They didn’t believe it was true.”

“Who confessed first?” Another person chimed in—a girl this time, one that you knew was from the Blue Lions secondary class. She was smiling at Sylvain, but when she caught your curious glance, her grin widened teasingly. 

You shifted your gaze to Sylvain. Neither of you had discussed it and it had actually slipped your mind. You didn’t think that people would actually ask things like this, and didn’t know how to respond. What happened to respecting others privacy?

He grinned, and his eyes softened. It took a second, but when he responded, it surprised you. He actually sounded… genuine? 

“I did,” he said, and you could have sworn that his cheeks actually coloured. You had to do a double-take.

“Way to go, Sylvain!” 

His friend high-fived him from across the table, but you felt more confused than before. It didn’t help that you had you were already having difficulty processing your school work, but you didn’t have the patience to deal with the facade. 

You started to collect your things. Any other day you might have played along, but you really did want to focus on your work. While you didn’t care for most subjects, Byleth had brought up a good point during your weekly evaluation. You had strong defences and high stamina, as well as above average speed, but your best stat was your dexterity. Your reflexes were on top of the classes—probably even amongst the student body, but your strength wasn’t the greatest. Therefore, even if you knew where your target was and where to expect them, you often required more than a few hits to defeat an enemy. He suggested that you study up on anatomy to determine the best places to maximize the effectiveness of your attacks, whether it was in a single hit or multiple. 

“I have a headache. I’m going to study in my room,” you said, rising.

You didn’t expect for Sylvain to follow you, but he did. He excused himself from his friends and gathered your belongings into his arms, then started to walk you back to your room. 

“You’ve been quiet this entire evening. It’s not like you. Do you need Professor Manuela to check you?” he asked, once you were out of the noisy hall.

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine.”

You had only reached the entrance to your dorms when a voice called out to you. It was Ashe, and he came running down the hall. 

“There you two are!” he panted. “Professor Byleth wants to meet with everyone. There’s news about the bandits.”

You and Sylvain exchanged glances, but otherwise proceeded to follow Ashe. Not after you had dropped off your things, of course. 

Byleth gave you a basic rundown of the situation: they had followed up on your lead and located where the bandits were hiding, which was at the Red Canyon. Strategies and formations were discussed, but it was nothing too complicated. You were going to infiltrate with a three-part platoon, which meant that every area was going to be covered. The Knights of Seiros were also going to back you up, but they were going to provide backup while the Blue Lions House took charge of the mission.

He suggested that you all rest well and stock up on your supplies. You would head out before dawn, when it was still dark out to take advantage of the lack of light. 

  
As a general rule, there were three sections to your platoon: the front, middle, and rear guard. The ones in front led the charge and cleared the path for the others to proceed safely while bulldozing any threats ahead. Momentum often depended on how well you did. Thus, Dimitri, Dedue, and Byleth led the charge. The three of them were strong defensively and offensively, and while Dedue wasn’t as fast as the other two, he made up for it in his strong defences. They were typically able to withstand most magical attacks, but Ashe rotated between the front and middle guard as a precaution.

The middle flank typically had a mixture of fighters. It was ideal to have a healer that could access the front and rear guard easily. Two or three protectors were often best suited to the case as, due to the level of high concentration with magic users, they needed the extra support. In this case, Mercedes was the healer of the group, with Ashe guarding any far-ranged enemies, and Sylvain and Ingrid protecting them both—him on horseback, and Ingrid in flight. 

Meanwhile, you were in the rear guard. You lacked proficiency in magic, but you had always had a pretty high stamina and sturdy defence. You worked best with bows, but had formal training in other types of weapons as well, which made you ideal in both long-range and close combat. Annette also assisted with any magic for the rear guard. She was proficient in both black and white magic, which made her a well-rounded mage. Mercedes was the main healer, but priority went to the first group primarily due to Dimitri’s special status. Thus, in the event that she was unable to assist, then Annette would lend her help to anyone else who needed it.

Protecting both you and Annette was Felix, whose speed and strength was unmatched. While he lacked talent in magic, similar to yourself, he made up for it in total concentration on his speed and strength.

Your group took care of clean up and any potential ambushes. 

Nevertheless, your strategy typically covered most bases. Although you knew that you lacked in certain areas, you also knew that your housemates made up for it with their own talents. 

The path to the Red Canyon was quiet for the most part. You made it through the trenches quietly and safely, save for a few stray beasts here and there. They never had the chance to reach your group, however. Both the front and middle guard had taken care of them effectively. However, the closer that you reached the supposed hideout, the thicker the fog became. You huddled closer together so as to not lose sight of one another.

“Stay alert,” Felix said. “Try not to get distracted. Things are only going to get more tense, here on out.”

You nodded your head. “I’m sure there are guards around here too. They probably just haven’t spotted us yet.”

“Everything will be fine, right?” Annette asked, her voice hushed. “Kostas… he’s notorious. Last time, he managed to escape the Professor and even the house leaders. So we have to get him this time!”

He had been infamous around the parts surrounding Garreg Mach Monastery, but had eluded authorities at every chance he got. You had never officially fought against any wanted persons, so even this was your first time encountering this situation. Like Annette, you shared in the unspoken pressure. Failure was simply not an option, not when he had run rampant for so long and not when you were so close to finally getting him.

A flare suddenly whistled up into the sky. Blue, followed by white. This meant that the front guard had officially infiltrated the den, and that the second guard was now engaging battle. 

The three of you continued on, yet still remained cautious of your surroundings. It didn’t take very long for the enemies to spot you. 

An infantry bandit suddenly leapt out from the mist, lunging at Annette, but both you and Felix had blocked the attack. You pulled Annette behind you while Felix slashed at the enemy and kicked him away. Meanwhile, Annette focused on her magic to cast a spell around the three of you, rallying up your defences and resistance. 

A sigil appeared beneath her feet and circled around the three of you, and then light broke through the mist, dispersing it effectively. 

It wasn’t much, but it allowed the three of you a better view of the situation. 

Then, the bandits came in full force. Once they realized that they couldn’t take the terrain to their advantage anymore, they rushed forward immediately. You stayed defending Annette, while Felix took care of anyone who got too close. She continued to focus on her magic to invalidate any long-distance attackers. 

It all happened so quickly, and you were moving on instinct, not so much thought. It was different than your training simulations. At least during the mock-missions, you had an advantage by having interacted with your peers before. Real combat was different, however. Everything on the battlefield was unpredictable. Nevertheless, you did your best to not lose focus. You kept your eyes trained for any abnormalities. 

Your feet moved before anyone else did; you spotted them before either Felix or Annette. A shine had caught your attention from the distance, and you were gathering your bow and arrow in place of your sword. You pulled your bow taut and released; moonlight parted the clouds and the assailant fell to the floor. Yet in your wake, you hadn’t noticed the other rogue hiding in the shadows. They lunged at you from behind and you heard Annette cry out your name.

You had only just turned around when Felix appeared to protect you, slicing down the bandit before you had even registered their presence. In that same vein, you spotted a flame rapidly closing in on you. Your eyes went wide—there had been no report of mages working with the bandits, and you acted without thinking once again. You pushed Felix out of the way just as the fireball reached you. 

It was a direct hit, a high-level spell that landed against your torso caught at your armour, but you could still feel it against your flesh. It was a miscalculation when there shouldn’t have been one. Especially when another enemy struck at you. 

You narrowly dodged their attack, using your bow to guard against them. It left your lower body susceptible to damage, and they took this to their advantage as they kicked at your wound. You couldn’t attack. You could hardly defend, even as they kept pushing you back. Neither Felix nor Annette were able to intervene either, as the enemies came consecutively like marching ants. 

The fireball from earlier hadn’t burned at your armor, but you felt a searing pain through your torso. It made it difficult to concentrate, and before you even knew it, you were being pushed over the edge of the terrain, falling down a hill that you had been warned about before, but hadn’t thought of in that moment. Twigs and rocks dug into your body and the flickering pain from earlier became excruciating as it consumed the left side of body. You felt paralyzed. 

You tried to grab at the anything to regain your footing but all that you managed was dirt that crumbled beneath your fingertips. 

You resumed falling; rolling over and over for so long that you weren’t even sure if it was ever going to stop.

Even amidst the cracking of twigs and the sound of on-going combat, you heard someone shout your name loudly before you finally landed at the ground with a dull crack.


	11. A Lesson on Chivalry

It was hard to focus, even though you were still conscious. Your breathing came in ragged pants and you tried to not move so much. Not that you could, anyway. You still couldn’t feel half of your body, and when you could, it was in a searing pain that wracked the rest of it. 

Your vision came and went. Blurry at first, but sometimes, you could still make out what was visible thanks to the moonlight. You were still in the forest that surrounded Kostas’ hideout. 

It was distant, but you could still hear the sound of fighting above you. Annette and Felix must have been working hard; you cursed the fact that you had fallen. Felix was a formidable foe, but he was susceptible to long-range combat. Annette was the opposite, but as long as someone got within a close range, then they were easily able to defeat her. 

You wished that you could be there for them. 

You tried to push yourself up, but your arms caved beneath you. Your body fell to the ground again, and you cursed aloud. It was your first mission—your first _real_ mission, and you hated that you had fallen so quickly. 

A short while later, the fighting finally stopped. It was still dark out when it did, but you heard someone call out to you again. 

Felix skidded down the side of the cliff, landing effortlessly on his feet. He called out to you again, and you responded weakly. It didn’t take him long to locate you. When he saw your battered body, he actually cursed. 

“Can you move?” he asked, crouching down before you. 

You shook your head, then asked him, “Where’s Annette?” 

He moved forward, slipping his hands underneath your body. You gasped aloud at the intrusion and he quickly retracted his hands. He decided another approach. His hands hovered around your body and a familiar cooling sensation overcame you. It wasn’t much, but it was still better than nothing. Although your body still felt numb for the most part, it didn’t necessarily hurt as much anymore. 

“Felix—”

“Shut up, I can’t concentrate.”

You rarely ever saw him this focused, and so you stayed silent. After a few minutes, the stinging on your body lessened, but you spotted the perspiration on the side of his face. You reached out for his hand with one of your own, finally able to move without too much pain, and forced him to stop. 

All of a sudden, he rose, though not because of your request. He turned around just as a final bandit came his way.

Felix moved swiftly—quicker than you had ever seen him move before. Small plumes of smoke rallied at his feet and then to his hands, and you saw sparks of lightning gathering at his being. He surged forward with a fully-charged strike, lightning coating his sword. 

You were in awe as you sat up. You knew that Felix was strong, but it had only taken him a single attack to defeat his enemy. You saw lightning cackle in the air, catching onto nearby leaves and trees, though not enough to cause an actual fire. You couldn’t imagine how much more potent the attack would have been if he had focused on a larger dose of his magic. 

He returned to your side immediately after, looking effortlessly put together in comparison to your sorry state. 

“Wow,” you breathed. “You’re incredible, Felix.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he reprimanded, “Who told you to move?”

You ignored his scoldings, as you watched his sword continue to cackle with remnants of his lightning spell. “Is that a new technique?”

You were still too fascinated by his previous movements. You had seen Felix in battle before, but he never ceased to amaze you with how effortless he was, while clearly being strong and forceful. In the darkness of the looming mist, the lightning that flickered around his being was something akin to a young maiden’s fever dream of meeting a God of Lightning. 

Or something. 

You must have been delirious in your sorry state, to think that for a second, Felix actually looked cool. 

“A while ago,” he answered after a moment. It was almost harsh, as though he were reprimanding you for distracting him, so you stayed silent. After a beat, he continued again, slower, regaining some of his usual composure. “Recently, actually. It was why I wanted to train with you the other day.”

His gaze ran across your body and then he was lifting you up again. It didn’t hurt as much as before, but you still hissed when he took you into his arms. 

“You wanted to try _that_ on _me_?” If you hadn’t been crying before, then you were certain that you were crying now. If he really did try that on you, then you wouldn’t have been taken in by these damn rogues. It would have been Felix who got you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he dismissed, as though he had been able to hear your thoughts. Did you actually say it aloud? You turned your head, even though you felt as though you had pulled a muscle doing so—and glanced at him. His head was lowered. His eyes were still focused on your wounds. “You would have survived.” He quickly caught himself. “You _will_ survive.”

Yeah, but at what cost? You clearly weren’t invincible, and the irony felt too real at the moment.

You laughed then, unable to help it, and Felix loudly hushed you.

“Whose fault is it for making me laugh?” you looked away from him, out into the distance. Were the others still fighting? It had gone quiet now, but you couldn’t be sure…

Then, you heard a whistle high in the sky. A loud bang ensued, followed by three more in succession. Blue, white, blue, white. The colours of the church—of the Blue Lion’s House.

“You think they’ll award me with like, a medal of valour after this?” you joked, though you were relieved to know that your peers had completed the mission.

“Haven’t we already gone through this?” he retorted. “You’ll be lucky if they don’t reprimand you for being so pathetic.”

You winced. And, perhaps realizing that he had been too harsh, he looked away.

“I didn’t think they would be this strong…” you muttered, your head curling into his chest. 

“Would it kill you to develop some self-preservation skills?” he scowled. You laughed into his chest, and he went silent once more. “…Just, for one second, can’t you think about yourself? Do you get off on people praising you? What if I hadn’t been there to assist you?”

“I wouldn’t have been in this predicament in the first place, then.” You were too tired to argue with him. The situation would have been different: if you were by yourself, then there was no need to protect anyone else. Let alone Felix.

“I didn’t ask you to protect me!” he hissed, and you grimaced. He had clearly lowered his voice, but you could still hear the sharpness in his tone. 

“Okay, I won’t do it again—

“You—“

“Is it going to be much longer, Felix?” you muttered. “…It really hurts.”

The last time that you had been this injured was probably when you were training with the pegasi at the academy in Faerghus. It was deserved, of course. You had been fooling around while in flight and one of your legs got tangled in the foothold, and your pegasus decided to play rag doll with you.

“We’ll get there,” he muttered, “Annette went to meet up with the others for backup.”

He flexed his grip on you, and then a gloved hand was moving to your face. But when he saw your face through the break of dawn, he froze. 

Previously, he had been focused on the injuries around your body, but he could see you clearly now. You had turned pale, and various cuts and bruises lingered on your body. Sweat coated your being and—were those actual tears in the corner of your eyes? 

He adjusted you within his grasp, and you winced because of how tight his grasp was. 

He looked ahead, and said softly, “We’ll get there soon… You’ll be fine… Annette is proficient with white magic, but with both her and Mercedes to help you, they’ll patch you right up. I won’t let anything happen to you either.” 

You didn’t respond, falling in and out of consciousness. Despite the pain that wracked your body, it was peaceful. The mist had cleared from the spells the mages had cast, allowing sunlight through the trenches of the forest. The scent of fresh greeneries surrounded you and even the chirping of the nearby animals and bugs were pleasant. It reminded you of the forests around your home, in a way; you could vividly remember many a days where you and your siblings had snuck out at dawn just to catch the rays of the morning sun.

“…Do you believe me?”

You breathed softly into his chest, certain that you had replied, but apparently you hadn’t.

“Hey,” he said, pausing in his steps. 

“Mm?” 

“Answer me when I speak to you,” he scolded.

“Tired,” your forehead creased; you were trying hard not to cry, but you couldn’t remember being in so much pain before. You needed a distraction. “Felix… tell me a story.”

This time, it was he who went silent. You didn’t actually think that he would respond—Felix didn’t know a thing about being gentle. But, had you been in a better state, you might have actually laughed and made fun of his shitty attempt at recalling a folk tale from Faerghus.

You knew the story well, just as many other Faerghus natives did. Felix should have as well, but he had mixed up portions of the story. The main character had originally been a greedy rich merchant who was duped by a blind girl into marriage, but her kind-hearted ways had softened his heart and he learned humanity because of her. It was a lesson on chivalry that many parents passed onto their children. 

Felix’s rendition spoke of the main character being a the same rich merchant, but upon being found out that he was duped by the blind girl, he challenged her to a duel to the death where he defeated her. It was dark and not at all family-friendly, and a far cry from the original story. 

You should have known that getting him to tell you a warm joke was like asking Sylvain to keep it in his pants.

“Does it have to be a folklore?” he muttered.

“You’re the one who decided on it,” you replied.

“…Do you remember that time we went up the mountains for a school trip, during the winter? It was what, when we were thirteen? Glenn volunteered to supervise us while we studied on creatures whose habitats were cold, desolate places…”

“What about that?”

“We found a mountain wyvern egg that day,” he said. “You were the only one who knew anything about it, even when everyone else had their information wrong. Even Glenn didn’t known much about it.” 

“Didn’t Dimitri inquire how a wyvern egg would have tasted upon being cooked?” 

It was just as legendary as his attempt to eat fresh weeds. You laughed at the reminder. The future king of the Kingdom was secretly a fool, and he had mostly everyone believing otherwise… 

You shifted, glancing up, and saw that Felix had smirked. “We took turns keeping an eye on the egg until its mother returned… Everyone wanted to pair up with you, but in the end, we also drew sticks…”

You remembered. Somehow, it always came to drawing sticks. 

That trip, you and Felix had ended up partnered together. Of course, your luck would have it that the mother wyvern returned during your shift. She had been feral, and worried that you and Felix were attempting to harm her baby. You ditched Felix so quickly and karma would have it, you ended up twisting an ankle when you ran through the snowy peaks. 

When he finally caught up to you, you ended up in a similar situation that you were now. Except, he hadn’t taken you into his arms that day. He had carried you on his back.

“I can’t believe that you still remember that.”

“Of course I remember,” he said. “Even at thirteen, I had thought that I trained vigorously… But that day, I realized that I had clearly under-levelled my training regime. My arms were completely sore when we returned to the campsite.”

Was he… was he making fun of your weight? You frowned at him.

“I fail to see why you decided to reminisce on this particular event…”

“I’m getting there, don’t rush me,” he said. “Everyone had worried about your injury, but when you got better, we were all relieved. Even that time you got injured from the pegasi incident. Ingrid had fretted over you so much, and you had to elude her at every chance you got. You snuck into my room that time to hide from her.”

Felix hadn’t been happy when you suddenly barged into his room, but when you pleaded him for help, he had actually allowed you to stay.

You smiled at the reminder. As different as things had turned within your group, you still shared in many happy memories…

“…Others clearly care for you, and appreciate you. Therefore, it is imperative that you value yourself just as much as others do.”

It wasn’t as if you didn’t care for yourself. The same way that others had cared for you, you wanted to return the gesture. It was why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself in harms way when you saw that Felix and Annette were being targeted… 

But you didn’t have the strength to protest, lest it upset him and turn into a fight.

“It’s why…” he muttered, barely audible, especially against the crunching of his boots against crisp leaves, “Even if it was Glenn… As long as it’s not the boar—especially not him… And… And even Sylvain is foolish thinking!”

You didn’t understand where he was going with this. In the haziness of your mind, you couldn’t catch onto what he was implying. If you were more conscious, you might have understood better, but you were barely hanging in there, and so you only took fragments of his speech, blurred in with the surface of his typical mannerisms and personality. 

You thought that he was just being his typical, angry, condescending self who judged Sylvain and Dimitri, yet still competed seriously with them whenever it was required. 

“…Why can’t it be them?” you asked. 

“You—” he froze, cutting himself mid-sentence. “Of all people, you should understand… Being a nobleman’s partner… Why would you ever allow yourself to be a secondary when you should be first?”

“I’m not married, Felix.”

“Of course not. Only a fool would marry you—twice the fool.”

Was he saying that you were undesirable? You couldn’t think properly. Your head was pounding. Splotches of black and white coated your vision, and Felix was moving too quickly… You thought that you had asked him to slow down, but maybe you hadn’t spoken at all. 

You tugged at his sleeve, breathing hard. 

But all that you heard was a faint call of your name—a whisper? A plea? Mm, no… Felix didn’t plead with others…

Especially not in such a distressed, panicked tone.

And especially not for them to stay with him.


	12. Dream of Me

You awoke to profanities being uttered around the room. Manuela wasn’t subtle in her curses. Even with a half-functioning brain, you could tell that she had probably been dumped again. It was hard to sleep when she was pacing around the infirmary while swearing and looking for any sharp objects.

You hoped there wasn’t any. Was Professor Hanneman around? As much as he disdained your —according to _him_— ignoble, rambunctious, and immature (yeah, he actually called _you_ immature—that’s when you knew he had lost all credibility) ways, you hoped that he wouldn’t let Manuela play effigy with you. What was the point in surviving a heroic attack only to die off the battlefield by the hands of a _definitely_-immature assailant all because of a broken heart?

You suddenly realized that there was probably some truth to heroes never having a good ending. If anything, you deserved a much more glamorous death than having to take the fall for someone else! 

Professor Manuela suddenly turned around. She was similar in Byleth in some ways: Byleth was typically astute regardless of the situation, but Manuela’s senses were extremely keen whenever someone talked or even thought badly of her. You had seen her march up to Professor Hanneman once, while he was giving you yet another lecture on your unbecoming ways and how if you didn’t get your act together, then you were likely going to turn into Manuela 2.0. She hadn’t been in the vicinity; in fact, you didn’t even know where she even came from. All that you remembered was that she had appeared out of the blue —which made you realize that your supernatural senses were definitely off— and she had started arguing with Professor Hanneman about how rude it was of him to talk about a lady behind her back.

(For the record, you definitely did take advantage of her interruption to slide away from anymore lectures.)

Currently, Manuela was looking at you with a misdirected, yet heated look. It wasn’t surprising that she spoke with you in such a dreadful tone, but you wondered if playing dead would have pleased her in any way. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Rough day?” you tried to sympathize, if only because you really didn’t want to die in such a pathetic way. At least the battlefield would have given you some cool-looking scars! As a matter of fact, you tried to glance down at your body to see if you even had any, but the covers were tucked tightly around your body. You couldn’t move, once again.

Her eyes went round and teary, and she immediately took a seat beside you and started to bawl. “You wouldn’t believe how!” 

She started on a long tangent about the terrible ways of romance, and how love was the worst thing ever. 

For a second—as brief as it was, you really wondered if the Gods were punishing you for surviving, for making you have to endure her tears. It wasn’t that you didn’t sympathize; you did, really. You didn’t completely understand her woes, of course, but you weren’t as heartless as to ignore her distress! It was just that, well, she had flung half of her body over yours and you were starting to lose feeling in your lower body again, as little that you had left anyway.

Worst of all, she wouldn’t even let you get a word in even when you tried to discreetly push her away. (You were certain that she much more preferred your lack of breathing, too.)

In the end, you just lied there with your head tilted back, as you recited as many scriptures to the Goddess in faith, if they would please, _please_ let Manuela get off your legs!! 

She had started on Professor Hanneman now. You weren’t sure how he was related to the situation, but Manuela was convinced that he was always involved. By now, you had officially started to actively tune her out. Her relationship with Professor Hanneman reminded you of the one that you had with Lorenz in that one played the role of the stable yet respectable elder (i.e. you; shame that he didn’t see the similarities), while the other played the role of the love-obsessed fool. (I.e. Lorenz.) And _this_, you sympathized with, and actually understood. It was hard making sense of what was completely illogical. But at least Professor Manuela had some redeeming qualities! If anything, she was just too soft-hearted when it came to love!

Lorenz on the other hand… He was just a pretentious fool. Seriously. There was that one time where you had glanced his way for only a brief second and he had been convinced that you were admiring him! Ha! As if! He didn’t skip on a chance to bring it up, whenever you were nearby. Especially the fact that he was a true-blood noble, and granted, you were considered noble in some aspects, but you were a working farm girl, and Gloucester was still considered a city. Alas, it just wouldn’t work, he said, though, because _he just didn’t feel that way for you_.

You had been wrongly accused!!!

Manuela might have been delusional, but Lorenz was the King of Delusions!

Rolling your eyes at the reminder, and slightly irritated, your eyes landed on the vase by your bedside. There were flowers in it. Judging by the vibrant colours and the stiff stems, they must have been fresh. You knew, even without asking. It was kind of cute, in a way, and your lips twitched into a smile when you realized where they came from.

Manuela followed your sight, and then sighed. “But I guess you it’s useless to convince you, huh?” Even though she should have been annoyed, you could hear a dreamy quality to her tone. You looked back to her. “You and Sylvain?” You couldn’t tell if she was judging you, and it made you frown. Then, her eyes took on a teasing light, and she said, “Well, I guess it makes sense. Aside from being childhood friends, it’s not easy to develop that same chemistry. It was about time, to be honest; Sylvain’s always had a different look around you.”

“What do you mean he has a different look around me?”

“Honey… You might be injured, but with me helping you, there’s no long-lasting effects. Your head injury is as good as gone. The other professors play into your false persona, but _I_ know.”

You peered at her, unmoving. She returned your gaze, equally as poised. It wasn’t like your stare-offs with Byleth or Sylvain, or any of the others. Manuela _knew_, holy shit; and whether she was right or wrong, her look was enough to convince you that whatever she was selling had to be true. <s>Was this what they called a beauty’s seduction?</s>

“I—“ You looked down at your lap. You looked like a blushing school girl, and Manuela actually preened at the sight. Then, you looked up at her through your lashes. She anticipated your response, wholly; eager to receive a new piece of gossip to entertain herself with. “Professor Byleth said that you were scarier than a ghost.”

“He what?!” She rose, fury igniting her. She was halfway across the room when she threw over her shoulder, “Go back to sleep. Your medicine has probably kicked in by now so you won’t feel any pain, but it doesn’t mean that you can move around recklessly!”

You stared at the spot where she had emptied, and then breathed out thankfully. Manuela really was scary. You just couldn’t decide who was scarier between her and Felix. 

You closed your eyes, then, there was peace once again. Manuela’s treatment really did work. You weren’t in anymore pain, but even if you wanted to move, your muscles felt like jelly. 

Still, it was quiet. There was a gentle breeze coming through the afternoon sun and even with how tight the covers were, it was pleasant. Your mind started to drift back to sleep, gradually, until—_ugh_. Why was your leg itchy? You tried to stretch your hand to scratch it, but then you realized that your left hand all the way up to your forearm was bound. You stretched with your other hand, but it made your back crack. 

Finally, you opened your eyes and glared into space, only to see someone else standing beside you. Since when? You hadn’t noticed him at all. 

The sun through the skylight hit his figure just right, making his hair look golden, like leaves in the autumn. It was hard to tell, but sometimes, when the sunlight hit just right, it made his hair strawberry blonde in a way; made him look angelic and peaceful. 

Staring at his profile, you could understand why others considered him handsome. He was definitely good-looking. Sylvain’s features were symmetrical and conventionally attractive, but it was his aura that drew people to him. It was different than Dimitri and Felix. The aura that Dimitri carried was expected but regal, but Felix’s was the opposite. He was cold and reticent to strangers, and made people steer clear of his path. 

When Sylvain was quiet, he actually looked aloof. It was a stark contrast to his extroverted persona, but during moments like these, he looked lonely yet approachable. Like if the right person came along and offered him a hug, then he would offer them the world. But if it were the wrong person, then he would disregard them completely. 

Human beings were often like that, considering themselves magnificent enough to be The One. It was probably why so many people came to him and wanted to insert themselves by his side to vie for his love and attention and fix what didn’t need to be fixed. Even if they didn’t love him. 

But Sylvain wasn’t broken, and he wasn’t incapable of feeling things. He would know if he had actually let himself believe. 

“The old ones haven’t even wilted yet. Why change them?” 

He turned, eyes wide, but when they landed on you, they softened. You suddenly realized the entendre behind your words. You were talking about the flowers, but even you weren’t entirely certain if that was the case.

“I thought you might like them,” he said.

It didn’t really answer your question, but you didn’t feel like pursuing it. You gave him the saddest look that you could, in the hopes that he would understand—you were super uncomfortable in the tiny bed. He took plight on your situation. He didn’t need for you to ask, as he had started to untuck the covers and adjusted your pillows, then helped you rise into a sitting position.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel itchy,” you muttered, trying to kick your foot under the covers. It didn’t help. You could see the bulge of your binds under it, large and obstructing. “…Otherwise, I feel pretty fine. Doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m pretty sure I could take Ignatz on a fight.”

“Yeah, but not Dimitri, right?” 

“I already played rag doll with Felix. Dimitri is a no-go.” You blanched at the thought. Felix might have injured you last time, but sparring with Dimitri was _intense_. You would gladly take a strict lecture from Hanneman or —gasp, even Seteth— any day if it meant that you could avoid sparing with Dimitri. 

The crooked smile on Sylvain’s lips dimmed, pulling into a frown. “Right. Let’s try to avoid you playing rag doll, yeah?”

He looked upset, and you wondered if you had taken your joke too far. But hadn’t he played along with you as well? 

Whatever. You were already bed-bound. You decided to play nice and asked him about everything. He filled you in on what you missed out on. You had been unconscious for two days, and it gave them all a scare. Ingrid and Annette were in tears when they saw you, but Annette and Mercedes had tried to counter the magic in your system with their own. 

“Your resistance is terrible, by the way,” he said. You didn’t need to be reminded. It wasn’t typically that bad; you were actually considered one of the better defensive students, but you had been caught unaware by the high-level spells, combined with the multiple hits.

“I want a round two,” you said, picking at your binds with your free hand.

This time, he actually glared at you. 

Nevertheless, they eventually brought you back to the monastery. Manuela and Hanneman had worked super hard to heal you. It was an advanced dark spell and required intense concentration, but in the end, they had managed. 

As for the mission itself? It was a success. “Professor Byleth said we did a good job.”

You nodded along with his explanation, and tried to remember what you could. You were glad to know that the mission was successful, but you wished that you could have done better. It didn’t feel right sharing in the praises when you hadn’t done anything. 

“I know Manuela said that the medicine would help and dull you a bit, but… Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to feel.

You weren’t a prideful person, but you really resented that you hadn’t performed as well. You could admit to slacking when it came to textbook skills, but you didn’t think that you were the worst fighter. In terms of archery, you were just as good as Ashe. In terms of swords and lances, while you weren’t as good as Dimitri, Sylvain, or Felix, you had still been trained in it and could still best at least half of your year if you took it seriously. You didn’t like using daggers, but you still kept a few on you and your dexterity was one of the best in your class. It was frustrating to know that even in spite of all that, you weren’t good enough.

“Hey, don’t take it so hard,” he said, putting a hand to your shoulder. “Hadn’t you protected everyone?”

“I should have been better,” you sulked. Professor Byleth had been right the other day. You really did need to train some more. It didn’t matter what your plans for the future were. At the moment, you had already decided that you were going to assist your friends with their goals and duties. How could you do things half-way? “Sylvain,” you started, remembering about the meeting the other night. “Will you really help me train?”

He was taken aback. “You really want me to?”

You shook your head. “Not just for the tournament.” No, you wanted to do better. You had to. As long as your friends and companions needed you, then you had to be better. 

“You know,” he started, smiling lightly. “Whenever you get an idea into your head, you fixate on it. To put it bluntly, you’re pretty stubborn sometimes, but I guess it’s not all-too-bad seeing how competitive you can get. Just, as long as you don’t become like Felix.”

You huffed. “As least if I became like Felix, I wouldn’t need others picking up my slack.”

He laughed. “It’s the least that I could do. At least this way, we’ll know you won’t get hurt anymore. ‘Sides, of all people, I should have been there, don’t you think?” 

You didn’t think so. The others needed him more than you did. You never blamed him. Besides, Felix had helped you. “Why’s that?”

“Because—” He put a hand to your head, looking serious, gaze excruciatingly soft and endearing, looking like raw, unfiltered honey, “I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

You stared.

He stared.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your mind went into overdrive. You assumed he was joking—you weren’t dating him, to begin with. However, nothing about Sylvain’s expressions or posture indicated that he wasn’t _not_ serious. Just what was he thinking? How was he expecting you to respond? It wasn’t often that you were at a loss of words. To be more exact, it wasn’t often that you took his words to heart, and yet something told you that if you didn’t, then you would regret it in the future.

Suddenly, he laughed. Tears sprung to his eyes and he held his stomach, and collapsed onto his chair, laughing uncontrollably. “You should see your face right now! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this shocked! I’m just kidding, you know!”

“Sylvain…” You frowned. If you could move your limbs, you probably would have crossed your arms. At the moment, it was too much to do so, but the fact that you didn’t share in his joy made him slowly wisen up. He peered at you lowly, like a young child waiting to be scolded. “It’s because you behave this way that others misunderstand and fall for you.”

Regardless of how genuine their feelings for him were, you could understand how they might have misunderstood. Given how open he was about physical contact and saying sweet words, how could anyone not melt? If you hadn’t known better, you might have been duped as well. 

But you _knew_.

“Yeah, but you won’t misunderstand, will you?” He smiled—bitterly? 

You were an easy-going person by nature. It wasn’t in you to be confrontational, but it was also in your Faerghus upbringing to be so. As cowardly as you were on most cases, if confronted or forced into a corner, then you knew how to stand your ground. You met his gaze steadily, once again wondering just exactly what he was thinking. You couldn’t tell. How could you, when he was always saying one thing and doing another? 

It wasn’t a matter of whether you could misunderstand; no, you had already decided a long time ago that when it came to Sylvain, you would only take his words at face value. To dissect any further was useless because as long as he wasn’t ready to declare anything, then it was moot point.

He didn’t wait for you to collect your words. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t do it again. I… don't know what came over me.” He ran a hand through his hair, and this time, when he smiled again at you, it was sweeter. “Will you forgive me?”

Of course you would. 

You were an easy-going person by nature. You could love and you could hate; you could hold a grudge and you could forgive. You could pretend, even when the other person was deceptive.

But to say that you were a fool would have been wrong. You were not; and only a fool would fall for Sylvain’s false charms. Least of all, not when he couldn’t admit that he liked you. You couldn’t be The One because he wouldn’t let you.


	13. The Only Constant

Felix was glaring at you. 

You didn’t know how long he had been watching over you you, but when you awoke the next time, he was there. Unflinchingly, with a permanent glare on his face. 

“Is now a bad time or…?” you trailed off, unsure of what he was thinking. 

If possible, he glared even more at you. 

You shrunk under your covers to hide from him, but he caught it in place. His grip was strong, and you were too weak to fight against him. You were expecting him to yank it right off, but instead, he had set it against you, under your neck and arms so that you weren’t suffocating. He didn’t say anything at all. 

It was suspicious. _He_ was being suspicious. You tensed, like a weary cat, under your blanket. 

“You’re not going to yell at me?”

“Ingrid said that I wasn’t allowed to yell at you.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“That’s because she yelled at me for an hour and even when I told her to go away, she still lectured me all throughout my training session.”

You couldn’t help it. You pulled your blanket up again, hiding your mouth, but it was useless. Your shoulders were shaking as you laughed. There weren’t many people that Felix was afraid of, and, granted, he wasn’t really afraid of Ingrid—but you knew how the boys disdained her lectures. She was worse than their own mother, and you loved her for that. 

You could imagine him trying to concentrate on his training, while Ingrid stood off to the side, chewing his ear off. She was persistent when she wanted to be; her determination was second to none. It was admirable, really. Her courage was indomitable. 

He frowned at you. “Don’t laugh.”

You promptly sat straight, and muffled your giggles behind pressed lips. 

He stared at you without really saying anything, for a long while. You were used to his taciturn ways, but even this felt too much for you. He was being strange this night, and you couldn’t help but recall someone else who had been equally as strange. 

“Sylvain’s been strange, recently,” you blurted.

“Of course he has,” Felix said, but didn’t explain further.

“_You’re_ being strange, too.”

He scoffed. “That’s only because I’m trying to be nice to you.”

You considered his words carefully. True, that might’ve been the case. It wasn’t as though Felix were typically responsive anyway, but he didn’t have much of a filter when he did. It was strange to see him behaving so considerately. 

Then again, you weren’t really in the mood to be scolded by him. 

“I’ll take it,” you said, settling down into your bed. “You’re damn scary when you’re mad, you know?”

He actually smirked, as though it were something to be proud of. 

“Manuela said that you should be fine to go back to your dorm tomorrow,” he said. “I just came to see if that was the case.”

You nodded your head. She had told you that earlier. You had already been awake for a few days now, but she had wanted you to stay in the infirmary so that she could monitor you. (And, the fact that once she found out that you had completely exaggerated Byleth’s words — which you later blamed on your head injury — she had taken it upon herself to give you lecture upon lecture. You tried to play dead once or twice, but Manuela’s healing spells were too effective. You had lost to her without a chance.)

“I don’t know why she couldn’t just discharge me earlier,” you frowned, picking at some fluff on your covers. “I’m basically recovered.”

You hated being stuck in the infirmary. It was on the second floor, which meant that sneaking out was basically impossible. Knights always loitered around the facility and the stairs were too much of an obtrusion. You tried to walk around once, but a guard had caught you and forced you to return. Most of your peers were busy with classes and their own agendas, which left you with too much time by yourself.

Professor Byleth had stopped by a few times to check on you. He hadn’t been angry that you had essentially threw him under, but you suspected that his revenge was the copious amount of school work that he had dropped off for you. 

You saw everyone else at least once as well. Ingrid visited you the most. She typically came by during meal times, but always left when classes restarted. 

Ever since the first day that you saw him, Sylvain hadn’t stopped by. You hadn’t seen him since, but every morning that you woke, there were fresh flowers by your bed. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and trying to dissect his thoughts gave you a headache. You didn’t want to press him out of his comfort zone, and decided that once you got discharged, then you wouldn’t bring it up unless he did. 

Suddenly, Felix pinched you, causing you to yelp. 

“What was that for?” you cried, rubbing at your arm. Didn’t he know?! You were an injured person!! 

“Didn’t you just say that you were recovered?” 

“Yes!” you snapped, and glanced at your hand where a small bruise was already forming. “Listen,” you said, glaring at him, “—recovering from my battle wounds and gaining a new one from you is completely different! I still have a scar from you when we were kids, you know! It never went away!”

“Battle wounds?” he raised an eyebrow, completely ignoring your accusation. 

You shrugged, and looked away. “You can’t tell me that they’re _not_ battle wounds.”

“Do we need to have Manuela check your head again? Are you sure that you’re not suffering from anymore head injuries? Maybe it’s a side effect.”

You swatted his hand away, and started to climb out of your bed. He watched you silently as you searched around the room. Ingrid had dropped some clothes off for you in case you wanted to change out of your casual wear, and while she sternly told you that it was not a means for you to sneak off, you decided to ignore her warning.

You found what you were looking for — a hoodie — and started to put on your socks and boots.

“You’re going out?” he asked you.

Manuela told you not to move so much, but you were never the type to sit still. You weren’t really the type to follow rules either. Not until you got caught. 

“You’re gonna stop me?” you tossed over your shoulder.

He frowned at you again—as it always seemed to be this night. “Should I?”

You froze. This could go either of two ways. Felix was a hard breed to read. He could either rat you out — which was unlikely, but you were pretty sure you were on his shit list currently; or he could assist you once again. 

But Felix didn’t do things out of the goodness of his own heart… 

You turned to him, your hands on your hips.

“I didn’t die from my wounds,” you explained—he frowned more at you, but you ignored his displeasure, “—but I’ll die from _boredom_, Felix. All that Manuela does is cry and moan about being dumped, and _looking_ at the assignments from Professor Byleth…” you shuddered, and glanced at the pile of work that you stuffed under your bed. “No thanks! Besides, isn’t it fine? She already said I could leave in the morning. What difference does a few hours make?”

He actually leaned back, and propped an elbow up onto the side table to stare at you. He didn’t say anything. You actually wished that he did; his silence was unnerving. 

“…I won’t complain the next time that you ask me to be your training dummy.” 

He didn’t move.

“I’ll even maintain your weapons.” You would say thank you, too, for him kicking your ass—which would definitely happen. 

He finally rose, and made his way over to you. You didn’t know what he would do, and braced yourself as a precaution. Your eyes were closed and lowered your head, and brought your arms to form a shield above you.

“A hero does not harm an injured person!!” 

Seconds went by but nothing had happened. You precariously opened your eyes, only to see that Felix was smirking at you. His hand had grasped the hood to your sweater, and he pulled it up over your head.

“I’m damn scary, huh?” He suddenly stilled, his hand still on your hood as his eyes narrowed. “Isn’t this my sweater?”

Was it? You glanced down, inspecting the article. It definitely wasn’t yours, as it was slightly larger than your frame. Then, you sniffed it. It faintly smelled of him, but when did you take it? It must have been a long time ago. You didn’t remember when you had stolen it.

“Ingrid brought me it,” you said, as innocently as you could. His eyebrows crinkled, but you didn’t give him a chance to interrogate you. You slipped your hand around his, and said, “Let’s go already! We’re going to be late!”

“Late?” he asked, as you attempted to drag him with you. It was no use. His feet were planted into the ground and no matter how hard you pulled, he wouldn’t budge. “For what?”

You finally released him and glared at him. “Can’t I just tell you when we get there? If we miss the opportune time, then you can forget about my offer!”

He huffed at you. “Lead the way!”

  
You took him to the kitchen.

To be precise, you took a detour there along your way, sneaking in through the back door while the kitchen staff were occupied. You grabbed a few things including a canteen of fresh milk, a block of cheese, and some leftover meats. 

Felix was unhelpful. He didn’t even offer to hold the items for you, and you struggled to carry all of your plunder. Then, you led him around the school to the port. When you reached a corner decorated with shrubbery and some trees, you crouched down and started to click your tongue.

You weren’t sure if they were still here. It had been a while since you were able to check up on them, after all. The bowl that you had set there last time was still there, so you were hopeful. You threw out whatever was still left in it and poured some fresh milk into it, and set it down onto the floor. A few seconds later, tiny little eyes peaked out from underneath the bushes. You goaded them even more, with tiny bits of meat. Slowly, one by one, they came out. A litter of kittens that you came across during one of your evening outings some weeks ago. They were skinny, but still alive, and uninjured.

“…Is this what you sneak around for?”

You passed him the block of cheese. He looked at it in confusion, but when you nudged your head back to the cats, he got the hint. He ripped off a small piece and held it out towards them. 

They didn’t move. Their little snouts had sniffed the air for the scent, but when they followed the aroma to Felix’s body, they stiffened. Your lips twitched, but you pushed the smallest one towards him. It stumbled for a moment, and looked back at you, but you shooed it towards him.

Precariously, it followed your signal, and opened its tiny mouth to nip at the cheese. 

“Sometimes,” you answered. “One of them was injured when I found him last time.”

You searched for the one with a silver ribbon around its leg, and found it still hiding under the bush. You pulled him out and onto your lap, and dangled a piece of chicken into his mouth. He munched on it happily, and curled further into your lap. While it was preoccupied, you lifted its paw to inspect its wound. When you undid the ribbon, you saw that his wound had fully healed, and you petted him on his back. 

“Annette and Bernie help sometimes, but we can’t always keep track. There’s so many strays around the monastery.”

You heard the small kitten with Felix purr. He looked equally as surprised as you, but when the small kitten nudged his head into Felix’s palm, he didn’t pull away. He actually started to scratch the cat on its neck, making him purr even more. 

Your fought your smile, and didn’t dare laugh at him. He looked like he was actually enjoying himself. Then, suddenly, the cat pulled away and peered up at Felix with bright eyes. Felix froze, and —unintentionally, as it was his default expression— glared at the cat. Yet still, the wonder in its eyes did not dim. It purred once more and moved to cuddle up against Felix.

This time, you actually laughed, and leaned back onto your arms to enjoy the night breeze. You inhaled deeply, and then shifted onto your back to lie against the grass. 

It was silent. 

“…I hate strays,” he suddenly said. 

“Sure.” He wasn’t convincing at all.

Even with your eyes closed, you could feel his glare on you.

“I hate that damned Ferdinand von Asshole.” You laughed aloud here. You knew how much he and Sylvain conflicted with Ferdinand. The two of them liked to pretend that he didn’t exist — and vice versa — but Ferdinand’s disdain for the entirety of your house was known. You didn’t think that he was too terrible, but even Sylvain didn’t like Ferdinand. Felix, you could understand—he hardly liked anyone; but Sylvain was more personable of the two, and even he guarded against Ferdinand. 

“I hate that I can’t get past Byleth’s defences,” he said. “—Or that we have to study all of this unnecessary crap like _faith_ and _trade policies_. Just give me a damn sword and I’ll put all of my faith into that.”

Your smiled. You knew he didn’t care about anything but his own skills; you almost wanted to ask him why he even bothered to join the academy but it would have been unnecessary. His reason was the same as yours, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise. Contrary to what most people assumed, he wasn’t as heartless as they thought.

You felt the small kitten nip at your fingers playfully, and you scratched him around the ear.

Felix sucked in a breath, but when he voiced his next complaint, it was you who was breathless.

“I hate that you don’t defend yourself,” he snarled, “How your guard is lowered against everyone; how you trivialize everything and take them all at face value even when they don’t have your best intentions.”

You turned your head to him, eyes open, only to meet his ever-so-serious look. He wasn’t angry, but—disappointed? He met your stare evenly, and under the moonlight, you couldn’t help but be pulled into his starlit gaze.

“I hate the most that you let Sylvain play games with you. Always. Unchanging. Ever since we were children, you let him do whatever he wanted.”

Did it bother him that much? It didn’t bother you. Not really. You had already succumbed to the nature of your affinity. You knew a long time ago not to put your unwavering faith and trust into Sylvain—not that he was untrustworthy, but he didn’t know how to be responsible with someone else’s faith. 

It was better to have no expectations than to have any, and be betrayed. 

Sylvain… was just like that. The best that you could do was offer him a helping hand when he needed it, even if it didn’t always prove to be the best for yourself. But you could handle it. You always did in the past, and you had no intentions of breaking in the future.

Your perception of him wasn’t blind. To assume that you didn’t know Sylvain would have been wrong. You _knew_ him—and you knew that he was harmless. But what were you to do when he didn’t know himself? It wasn’t up to you to decide.

You laughed. “I’m not sure that there’s anything that you _don’t_ dislike, Felix.”

He hissed, and, while still glaring at you, said, “I don’t hate you.”

That… was a first. You hadn’t expected his response, but what you hadn’t expected the most was the sincerity laced in his voice. His gaze remained unwavering; firm and focused entirely on you, even as the little kitten in his lap purred for his attention. 

“Since when?”

His lips parted, but no words came out. His glare hardened upon you. You knew that you shouldn’t have, but it wasn’t often that you had the chance to tease him. 

You pushed yourself up from the grass, mindful of the cat on your lap, and leaned in towards him. 

“When did you decide this? Is it when I almost died for you? A thank you will suffice. It doesn’t have to be elaborate; I’m not picky.” 

You grinned, while he continued to stare at you unhappily. Then, he suddenly set aside the small kitten — who whined at the loss of contact — and rose to his feet. You stared at him in panic, and, quietly ushering a small apology to the litter of small cats, you chased after him.

“H-hey! Don’t ditch me!” you cried. “What happened to you begging me to stay with you?”

He turned, eyes wide—but his response was instant. “I did no such thing!”

“I distinctly remember—“

“You had a head injury. You remembered incorrectly.”

“What was it that you said again? That I shouldn’t be second when I’m worthy of first?” 

You tried to remember his exact words, but they were hazy in your memory. You were too busy pondering over it when he suddenly whirled around. You barely caught yourself from slamming into him. Just as he opened your mouth, you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m sorry!” you said, hoping that he would finally stop glaring at you. He really was scary. 

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it!” he snapped. 

“I really am sorry!” you said. 

He scoffed, but the fact that he didn’t say anything else and turned away made you hopeful.

You grabbed onto his hand, forcing him to look at you again, and you grinned foolishly at him. 

“…For what it’s worth, I never doubted you,” you said. “Not when you said that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me; not when we were children, and not now.”

He was the only constant; the only person that you knew wholeheartedly would not break your trust.

“You—” he started to scowl again, but caught himself, and swung his hand out of your grasp. You didn’t fight him for it. He turned away, avoiding your gaze this time, and you decided not to tease him anymore. “Let’s go back before Manuela finds out you’re gone. She’s damn scary.”

You laughed, but nodded your head. 

You made your way back to the infirmary in small, idle chatter. (Mostly carried by you, but Felix grunted in response every now and then.) But, later that night, as you lied in your bed and thought back to the blush that ran across Felix’s cheeks, you couldn’t help but laugh. He was damn cute, sometimes. But you wouldn’t tell him that. Not unless you wanted to seek a death sentence.


	14. Paper Boat

As luck would have it, the day of your return was a free day. In the morning, Felix had done as he had said he would: he picked you up from the infirmary and brought you back to your room, though not without glaring at you the entire time. You were used to his dour ways, but even you had felt cautioned to hold your tongue. He didn’t stay for longer than necessary, and left once he had seen with his own eyes that you were actually capable of functioning. 

“I’ll be training with Byleth,” he suddenly announced, out-of-the-blue, just as he started to leave.

You turned to him, with an eyebrow raised. _Did you even ask?_ You had known since childhood that it was pointless to ask Felix questions, least of all, where or what he was doing. He famously only answered when he felt like it. To do so when you knew his behavioural patterns was to waste your breath. 

He shifted under your gaze, and his lips parted once more. You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. He just glared at you again, and then left. 

You shrugged off his strange behaviour, and went about your day.

As much as you detested the idea of school work, you knew that you were behind. After getting reacquainted with your room (i.e. you had rummaged through your belongings, making another mess out of your already abstract room), you finally settled on your attire and agenda for the day. You stuffed the discarded schoolwork that Professor Byleth gave you as well as a few other notebooks into your schoolbag, and exited your room.

You had just opened the door when you saw Sylvain standing right in front of you, his hand in the air, seemingly ready to knock.

“You’re heading out?” he asked, with a frown.

“Huh?” You weren’t doing anything shameful, but you still shifted under his gaze. It was the first time in a few days that you had seen him, and you felt awkward given how your last conversation ended. “Oh, yes, kind of.” 

You were only heading to the library. You weren’t intending on leaving the school grounds or anything. Although that was typically the case, you knew better than to leave so soon after being discharged. You knew it was best to play safe.

“I’m just going to the library to catch up on some school work,” you clarified. 

“Oh,” he replied. Suddenly, he was looking down, and if you didn’t know any better, Sylvain looked bashful. As though he were unsure of himself—what he was doing here, in particular, and why. 

You spotted the books under his arms, and the bag around his shoulder. “Looks like you’re going there too?” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I was actually looking for you.”

Similar to Felix, instead of further explaining himself, Sylvain went silent. He continued to avoid your gaze, and, although you were curious, you didn’t press him for an answer.

“Do you—“

“I thought—“

You were about to ask him if he wanted to go with you when he spoke at the same time. It wasn’t like him. He wasn’t usually this timid, and you yielded for him to speak first. 

“I thought that maybe you’d like some help with studying…” he said, with a wry smile. “Want to go together?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled in response, belatedly realizing that you had held your breath while he spoke. For the first time in many days, you thought that maybe—just maybe, everything would be alright between the both of you. 

The path to the library was not typically this long, but it felt like an eternity between the both of you. You didn’t know why he was being so strangely reticent. Typically he was at least making some sort of conversation, but today, he was quieter than even Marianne. His eyes never strayed on you for too long, and even his responses towards you —what little they were— seemed absent and barely there. Like his head was up in the clouds and if you didn’t pull him down soon, then he was going to float away.

It made you worried. You didn’t like this insecure side of him. 

“Is everything alright, Syl?” you asked, though you purposefully avoided his gaze. You didn’t know why you did so, but you didn’t attempt to right yourself either. “…I haven’t seen you around recently.”

There was only the sound of you flipping through your book as you walked. You saw the words and the diagrams, but your attention was focused —waiting— for Sylvain’s response. 

It did not come.

You finally looked up at him, and for the briefest second, his gaze was strangely soft. It wasn’t something you saw often, but it looked natural—like newly extracted minerals from ores located in the deep earth. It was only for a moment, but you couldn’t stop looking. 

Then, he smiled, the boyish mirth alighting his eyes. “Did you miss me?”

You should have expected it, really. You could only blame yourself for being a fool, and so, you settled comfortably into your coffin. 

“I guess,” you replied. To say otherwise was a lie, and, if worded incorrectly, might have done more damage than you already did. “I was starting to wonder if I needed to ask Professor Hanneman for like, a locating spell or how to perform a seance.”

“Really?” he grinned. “You’d summon my ghost just to talk to me?”

“As long as you don’t haunt me, once every now and then would be fine.”

His loud laughter earned quiet scoldings from those around you. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” 

He still didn’t answer you, and you frowned. After a long time, he finally let out a sigh, his shoulders easing, half-smile upon his lips as he stared at you. 

“There’s no need to go that far,” he said. “There were a few things going on, but… It’s mostly taken care of now.”

Despite saying so, his eyes betrayed his ease. His posture and his smile might have been relaxed, but you spotted the cracks in his amber eyes. Being extracted for too long, under the weight and pressure of greatness… Of being. 

“Mostly?” you tried to goad, but once again, Sylvain did not explain. It wasn’t your place, you tried to tell yourself, and so, you looked away. “Well, as long as it means that you can go back to being a bad boyfriend.” Or a good one? You weren’t sure how it was supposed to go, at this point. 

You continued to walk, the steps towards the entrance only a few feet away, unaware that Sylvain had frozen upon your remark. When you realized that he wasn’t beside you, you froze as well. Did you take it too far? You didn’t mean it that way. You knew you hadn’t reacted as well as you probably could have the other day, but he had caught you off guard and your wit was stunted given your injuries. 

“I—“ he stuttered, but when you offered him a teasing smile, he breathed out another sigh. This time, it was out of relief. “Alright. You got me. I deserved that one. Call it even?”

He caught up to you, extending his hand out towards you. Your lips twitched as you caught his high-five. You were glad that he wasn’t sulking anymore. 

“By the way,” he started, shifting his books into one hand as he searched through them. “I made you an itinerary.”

You peaked at him from the corner of your eye, curious as to what he meant. He set it atop of your own documents and you juggled opening it while walking. True as Sylvain said, you spotted an itinerary for your training regime. He had even collected pages of information in regards to your own personal skills and stats. 

It was meticulous, much more than you expected when you had asked him to train you. You didn’t think that he would take it this seriously, and were at a loss of what to say. Thanking him didn’t feel enough. It must have taken him a lot of time to not only plan it out, but collect all the information he had. Furthermore, in the future, he would be putting aside time to help you too.

“I actually asked Professor Byleth for your stats,” he said. “I hope you’re not angry.”

Why would you be? Wasn’t it for your own benefit? 

He had thoroughly gone through your skill sets and made little notes of improvement where he found it was necessary. 

You were originally an offensive fighter, which meant that your physical attack was decent—no where near Dimitri’s, Felix’s, or Sylvain’s insane strength, but you were above average. Your speed, however, was one of your better assets, on par with Sylvain’s and Ingrid’s. Once you arrived at the academy, Professor Hanneman had suggested that your magical resistance and physical defense held the most room for growth, even though your bane was in your magical offence. It was why despite originally being an offensive fighter, you had taken the role of the tank for the third flank during most of your strategies. 

It didn’t mean that your resistance was perfect. After all, you didn’t have much talent with magic to begin with—even if it was defensive magic. Most of the time, you adjusted in the easiest way: using rally spells which was a class of spells that almost anyone was capable of learning. Instead of committing yourself to strengthen your resistance, you took the easy way out by temporarily fixing your resistance. 

“I was thinking that we should work on your defensive strategies first,” he said. “Byleth hasn’t taught it to us, but I read about it during my research. We’ll have to work on each of your rally skills in order to get you to learn the more advanced Rally Heart, but our end goal will be for you to learn Rally Spectrum. Along with this, we’ll have to boost your authority since you’ll need to be able to operate more flexibly.

To begin with though, we should work on improving your base resistance. We’ll have to start from the basics in order to improve your understanding of magic, from the beginning. This means that while working to better your resistance, you’ll also have to further your offensive magic skills.

Another thing that we should study is your understanding of the human anatomy. Last time, Professor Byleth mentioned something similar to you, right? It won’t be bad, after all. If you can memorize anatomy, then you’ll get a better understanding of where to land your hits to ensure the most effective result.

I actually calculated your stats, and Professor Hanneman wasn’t wrong when he suggested that you become our defensive wall. Out of everyone at the academy, you’ve got some of the most solid statistics as well as room for growth. The only subject that you’re really lacking in is your magical offence, but that’s fine. Your stamina, defense, speed, and resistance are already better than most, with the first three being much higher than most others without you needing to train much. Even your attack and dexterity isn’t bad. 

If the teachers back in Faerghus had focused on those to begin with, rather than forcing everyone to learn the same curriculum, you’d probably be unstoppable.”

You had always known that Sylvain was brilliant. He was often overlooked in favour of his cultivated personality, but, having heard him dissect and analyze your individuality while explaining it in an easy-to-understand way… You were in awe. Even when Professor Hanneman had tried to explain his research to you, you hadn’t understood.

But you did now—and you wanted to cry.

“W-wait, why are you looking at me like that?” he panicked, when the water-works started to come.

“You mean you want me to get _pummelled_?” you shrieked, dreading the thought of having to take hits from all sides. If it were up to you, you’d much rather maximize your speed in order to learn how to run away effectively while the enemy depleted their stamina chasing after you. 

“M-Maybe we should focus on your attack?” he pondered, peering over your shoulder to look at the papers, calculations running through his mind. “But if that’s the case, you know… You’ll have to actively fight.”

Ah.

That was worse.

Your soul escaped you, but Sylvain laughed. “What’s there to worry about?” he asked. “It’ll be fine. As long as we stick to my schedule, you’ll be guaranteed to even cut through a bamboo shoot.”

“You’re the worst,” you bemoaned. 

“I’m not a miracle maker,” he retorted.

You finally sighed, succumbing to your fate. It was your idea to begin with, wasn’t it? Even though it wasn’t ideal…

Just as you passed the threshold of the library, Sylvain suddenly called out to Catherine. You hadn’t noticed her, but his shout caught both your attention and Catherine’s. He quickly turned around to you and sent you an apologetic smile.

“Meet you at our usual?” he said. “I won’t be long. There’s something that I want to run by Catherine first.”

You nodded your head, and watched as he grinned, then ran off towards the famed knight. Then, you entered the building. 

Ever since you started attending the academy, you always sat at the same table. It was on the left side of the library, towards the middle section, and right beside the window. It wasn’t anything special, but you had gotten used to sitting there during your study sessions. After a while, the others in your house also convened at the same table where it was unofficially your table.

Your feet moved instinctively and unhurriedly, but, much to your surprise, it was occupied.

By Whitney.

You weren’t entirely sure what to think of her. For the most part, you hadn’t run into her before. Sure, you saw her around the monastery from time to time, but you never officially encountered her since she started attending the academy. Aside from Sylvain being the common denominator, then you were certain that your paths would have never crossed. You would have remained strangers even despite being so near each other and part of the same world and society; your paths should have never intersected had it not been for him.

You knew this, and yet… Your feet still carried you over towards her. Or, to be more precise: towards your table.

“This is my table,” you said, before you could even stop yourself. Did that sound rude? You hadn’t meant to sound so hostile. “Sorry—“ you quickly said. “I just meant… this is where I usually sit. Do you mind?”

She didn’t. Whitney was more amiable than you imagined her to be, given the circumstances of your acquaintanceship. 

You slid into the seat across from her, and started to lay out your books. The entire time, she stayed silent, focused on her own studies. Compared to yourself, who glanced her way with every sheet that you took out, Whitney was easily the more mature between the both of you. You weren’t able to ignore her as easily as she was ignoring you. 

“So, um,” you started. “How are you adjusting to life here?” 

Whitney looked up at you, her gaze scrutinizing. You knew how that sounded. Taken the wrong way, she could have easily assumed that you were gloating, as if to tell her that _you_ didn’t need to adjust because you belonged at the academy and she didn’t.

Or maybe you had read too many drama novels.

You sent her an apologetic smile, hoping that she would understand that you meant no ill harm towards her. “I mean… What made you join the academy?” You grimaced again because—wasn’t it obvious? “Sorry—“

“I want to become a Knight of Seiros,” Whitney explained, interrupting you before you could further dig a hole for yourself. “I… really admire Archbishop Rhea and Catherine.”

You were surprised at her response, though it wasn’t uncommon. Archbishop Rhea was someone that many people admired for her peaceful ways; Catherine was strong and knightly, a symbol of strength and valour even amongst men, not to speak of anyone else. There was very little to consider ill about either of them. They were respectable and heroic; legendary icons of strength.

You found yourself smiling at the thought. “Yeah… They’re very admirable, aren’t they?” Even yourself, you looked up to the two women. 

Recognition seemed to flutter within Whitney’s gaze, as though she hadn’t been expecting your own admission. The suspicion in her green eyes faded; replacing it was something gentler—like understanding. 

“I was supposed to enrol at the beginning of the school year,” she further explained. “—but it got delayed because my mother turned ill.”

She looked away, and you felt guilty. You had been the one to reason with Sylvain before that maybe Whitney hadn’t come to the academy for him. And yet, you had been the one to imply otherwise. In front of her face, no less.

“And yourself?” she asked.

You considered your answer, as you looked out the window, overseeing the courtyard. Your response wasn’t anything noble. In fact, it wasn’t even an option after you graduated your mandatory schooling in Faerghus. You hadn’t ever intended to become a knight or anything like that. Your goals for the future were purely selfish. You wanted to retire on your family’s farm, and live your days idly. 

And yet…

“I guess… I only came because everyone else did.”

There was nothing else to it. To put anymore explanations to your reasoning would only dilute it. You only wanted to go where your friends were, and share in the same journey as them. 

You looked back at Whitney, sending her a wry smile. Your reasons were completely opposite and yet… She didn’t judge you. The look that she sent you was still understanding and full of sincerity. 

Feeling embarrassed, you excused yourself, heading towards the shelves with the excuse of looking for a book. There, you pulled a random book from a shelf, opening it with faint interest before closing it. Just as you put it back, a shadow made itself known in front of you. With one shoulder against the the shelf, Claude smirked at you.

“The current girlfriend, and the ex? You’re a spineless one, aren’t you?” he teased, then nudged his head in the opposite side of you. “My money’s on the ex.”

You frowned. What did he mean by that?

“Don’t be so crude, Claude,” came Hilda’s voice, on your right. You whipped your head towards her, wondering since when did the hellish duo come? And from where? You hadn’t noticed them at all, and they had effectively cornered you in. “You can’t put a monetary amount on love.” She was right, you thought, and you were about to agree with her when she continued. “Besides, you can’t seriously try to convince me that they’re actually dating.”

“W-what? Hey…”

Hilda ignored you as she played with her hair, inspecting the ends for any splits. “They don’t behave like a couple, after all. I mean, I know Sylvain looks like a lovesick pup around her, but who even knows what a woman’s heart is like aside from themselves? Though, not even that’s a guarantee…”

“You think that Sylvain actually has feelings for her?” Claude looked genuinely shocked, as though the notion were infinitely impossible. “I was under the impression that his type was more of the temporary and hopelessly-one-sided on the victim’s side.” Hilda sent him a pointed look, but the apologetic look on his face was far from sincere, further contaminated by his careless shrug. 

You were just about to counter the two of them when Hilda once again interrupted. 

“Sylvain definitely has feelings for her.”

“Oh?” Claude was intrigued now, as he grinned at you. “And? What say you?” 

“I don’t have to answer that,” you quipped, pushing his shoulder away from you. He was encroaching on your personal space now, and you didn’t like it.

“It’s official: she’s in denial.” Hilda said. 

“No one’s in denial about anything!” you shrieked, which promptly earned you nasty looks and quiet reprimands. “What about the two of you?” you threw at them, nudging your head from Hilda to Claude. “You can’t stand there accusing Sylvain and I of fiction when you both are teaming up in front of me.”

“You can’t be serious,” Claude drawled. “Me? And Hilda?” 

“Well, Hildegarde,” you said, staring pointedly at her. “Do you have feelings for Claude?”

“It’s only Hilda,” she snapped at you, with a glare. “And no, of course not!”

“Don’t change the subject.” Claude said. “We’re not talking about Hilda and I. We’re talking about you and Sylvain—and Felix.”

“Wait, seriously?” It was back to Hilda now, who looked shocked at the mention of Felix. 

“I saw them the day that they came back from their mission. He was the one who carried her back.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“What about the fact that Felix yelled at Sylvain for her?”

“When did this happen?” Even though it was once again Hilda speaking, you found yourself curious as well. You knew that Felix was quick-tempered, and Sylvain was not exempt from his wrath, but you didn’t know that he yelled at Sylvain. Not recently, from what it sounded like. 

“Yeah, he—“

You waited, eager to hear the reason why but Claude caught your look. He smirked in response, and leaned back against the shelves as his eyes twinkled with mischief. He purposefully stayed silent. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “You know, I’ve read that some cultures bind two lovers with a carving of their hearts,” you said, eyeing him critically. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to read people. “That’s extreme, of course. But for the less extreme, even piercings will do. Where are you from again, Claude?”

He smiled. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

“A three-ringed hoop,” you muttered, staring at his earring. “They say that it’s used for special ceremonies or occasions. Three lifetimes; three promises… A vow, you know. Here, in Fodlan, a single ring means commitment. I wonder what it means in your homeland, Claude? Are you sure that you’re not the one with a secret love life?”

He actually leaned back to smile at you. Hilda watched on with muted interest. It was hard to discern what she was thinking or how she felt; if she even knew _that_ much about Claude or not.

“A lover?” he remarked. “Sure, if you consider a rabbit one.”

“You don’t look like a rabbit type of person,” you said.

“A deer and a rabbit? Don’t you think that it’s cute?”

“Deceptive is more like the word.”

He laughed, but didn’t deny your accusation. You scowled, knowing that you were on the losing side. When it came to either of them—you were always defeated. Claude was more open about his scheming, and Hilda less so, but both of them were difficult opponents to deal with. 

“Professor Byleth?” you muttered. Both Claude and Hilda turned, looking in the direction you had directed them to. 

With them distracted, you slipped past the two of them, through the various aisles and as inconspicuously as you could. Which meant that you were currently trying to make yourself smaller by crouching as you escaped, unknowing that, as you backtracked your steps in effort to hide from their wily ways, someone was standing right behind you. Your name was called, and you righted yourself, spinning around only to bump into the person behind you.

“Whoa,” Sylvain said. “I knew that one day, you’d come right into my arms, but this is forward for even you, isn’t it?”

You elbowed him, and when he grunted—there were immediately hushes that came through the library, you quickly pulled him and pushed him further down the aisle, out of view and out of sight from everyone.

He really chose the worst time to come. You had only just escaped the hellish duo — both of them had wicked senses — on one side of the room; and on the other, the table that you had occupied with Whitney. 

“Hilda and Claude are being annoying,” you said. 

“When are they never?” he mused.

You resisted rolling your eyes, keeping your gaze on your table. Whitney was still there, and she was preoccupied reading. You didn’t think terribly of her, but you also didn’t want to deal with her currently. 

“Can you sneak off?” you asked him. He raised an eyebrow. “Whitney’s here, and I don’t want her to misunderstand.”

“You hardly know her.”

“That’s besides the point,” you said. 

You felt awful for how she felt. It wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong but you still felt guilty around her. Was this how Sylvain felt? You suddenly understood why he was so adamant against confronting her. 

“Did Felix yell at you recently?” you asked, remembering about what Claude had said.

“Huh?” he was caught of guard. “He told you?”

“No, I—“

You quickly ducked, and pushed Sylvain further down the aisle, until he was pushed against the spine of the shelf, out of view and out of sight from everyone. Claude was closing in on you, and you didn’t want to give him more ammunition to hold against you. You waited for him to leave, before you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“They’re seriously way too dangerous,” you muttered, then looked up at Sylvain. “Let’s get out of here?”

He stared at you for a long moment. You weren’t sure why he was staring at you like so, but you didn’t ask. Then, he nodded his head, and told you that he would meet you under the canopy towards the left of the building. 

After making sure that Claude wasn’t loitering around anymore, and staying alert of Hilda, you finally returned to your table. Whitney was gone when you returned, which made you all the more relieved. Though, you still felt guilty for suddenly ditching her even though you weren’t obligated to stay.

Nevertheless, you made a mental note to talk to her more in the upcoming days. She wasn’t terrible; far from it, actually, and you didn’t want to make her feel unwanted at the school.

You narrowly avoided Hilda, who you overheard asking another student if they had seen you. Neither of the noticed you, and you slipped through their gaze. You assumed that Claude was wandering around somewhere close by as well, but, much to your surprise, as you exited the entrance of the second floor, you spotted Claude down the hall. He expertly maneuvered through the nooks and crannies, only to inconspicuously slip through an entryway that you knew led down the hall towards Rhea’s office. But Rhea wasn’t around. You saw her earlier with Captain Jeralt—so why was Claude heading in the direction of her quarters? 

It was best not to ask, you thought, as you quickly made your way down the stairs to meet Sylvain. 

He was where he said he would be: leaning against the brick walls, waiting for you under the canopy. You smiled at the sight. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and as quietly as you could, you crept towards him. 

Then, you leapt, with both of your hands shoving his sturdy body. Of course, he wasn’t affected, and you regretted the fact that he was unafraid. 

“You got rid of them?” he asked.

You nodded your head. Though, it wasn’t so much as you got rid of them as much as you had escaped them. There was a difference. But, for now, you were going to take it. 

“What did they bother you with, anyway?” he asked.

You choked on your spit, sputtering. Then, as quickly as you could, you told him, “Claude’s love life. Apparently, he’s into rabbits.”

“A rabbit? Like, an actual rabbit?” he sounded disbelieving. You shrugged. “Maybe it’s a pet?”

“Who even knows with that guy?” you retorted, then started to lead him away. He followed you. 

You asked him about Catherine, but Sylvain didn’t seem to want to talk much about it. He suggested that the both of you study in the dorms, which you didn’t protest about. It sounded much more safer than studying where Claude and Hilda were making their haunts known.

“Oh, before I forget,” you said, shuffling through your book bag. 

You forgot about it all this time, but it was shoved into your notebooks while you were staying at the infirmary. It wasn’t until you had sorted through your stuff earlier that you found it again, and you presented it to Sylvain. 

“I missed your birthday,” you said. “It’s not the real thing, but it’ll do, right? And you can’t be mad at me for missing your birthday to begin with. I was indisposed.”

You looked away, embarrassed at your flimsy gift. He probably didn’t even remember. At the thought, you felt foolish. Wouldn’t he just laugh at you for remembering something he didn’t?

Growing up, Sylvain had enjoyed board games and puzzles. He was an avid thinker, a strategist in the making. When he was younger, he spent hours upon hours building a miniature boat-in-a-bottle. The structure was infused with magic. Once built, it would glow warm and carry the sounds of the shore with it, and bring the ocean to him.

Sylvain always loved the sea, lamenting that your family farm—although located in the north, was also on the north-western border of Faerghus where the climate was cooler on one side, and more frigid on the other. Nevertheless, your farm was by the ocean, with a beach that was full of sun and warmth during the summer. 

Unlike your other Blue Lions counterparts who preferred the cold, he did not mind the summer. 

Sylvain had even dreamt of sailing the ocean waters one day, whether it was by ship or boat. It was your father who taught him how to commandeer one, and made Sylvain the only one in your group who knew how to operate a boat. 

Not long after he successfully built the structure, Miklan had smashed it. The crystalline bottle broke, and even though Sylvain was able to recover all of the pieces, the magic of the ocean had already faded into air. 

“You still remember?” It was Sylvain who asked this question, quiet as mouse. You almost missed his question, hardly hearing it.

“…I had a dream about boats a few days ago, and thought of you.” You had awoken in the middle of the night after your dream, and you could not fall asleep until you had successfully folded the boat.

It was only a paper one, far from the real thing. But you still persisted all the way until dawn before you succeeded. When Manuela arrived to check on you, she scolded you for littering all over the infirmary. 

“You dreamt of me?” he asked, but his voice was missing the usually teasing cadence.

It seemed that lately, he was losing that touch of jest; instead, replacing it was a tone of maturity; his words becoming serious and although insecure… Seemed to be more genuine and sincere than before. Where nearly almost every word of exchange between the two of you, in the past, had been words of jest or mirth, but lately, it seemed that they were becoming half-truths and half-fiction. 

“Of a boat!” you clarified. “Not of you!”

Recently, although you were unsure of what it was, you felt as though there was a shift in the dynamic between the two of you. Where you used to be able to assume his thoughts, you were now unknown, unable to even garner a guess.

One of those instances was now: where he had suddenly pulled you into a hug, in the middle of the cobblestone pathway and against the setting sun. He held you dearly and warmly, as his head fell against your shoulder, and you were uncertain if the warmth came from the sun or from him. 

Your hands hung in the air, unknowing of where to place them and what to do. 

You couldn’t help it, as you thought to Faerghus. Your homeland was a place that was famously and notoriously cold, and yet, Sylvain was always warm. The eyes that looked at you were as bright as honey, and the hand that always extended out to you was never cold. 

“This year, you know, I—“ Sylvain muttered, and you could have sworn that you heard him gasp, as if searching for reprieve. It was unlike him; it was unlike him to press his hands so firmly into your back, that your chests were touching, pulling you impossibly close to you as if he never wanted to let you go. “—I only had one wish, and it already came true.” He wished for your safety, indicated by the flowers that he left for you every day on that table—a symbolism of well wishes and a quick recovery. And, on another side of the spectrum: for you to dream of him. “I didn’t need anything else, but this… You… You’re really amazing, you know that?”

Didn’t he know? 

In fact, you only became amazing because of him.

Your hands curled, as you wondered—just momentarily—

“Don’t get all sappy on me, Sylvain,” you muttered back. “It’s not the real thing, you know.”

“Paper, glass… It’s still real to me.”

That was the problem.

It was real to him, even if it wasn’t. 

For a second; for a moment, you wondered if it was wrong to believe. It had to have said something when you could feel his heart so close, so vibrant, beating effortlessly against yours.

Hilda had been wrong when she said you were in denial. You knew the truth; you had known it all along, and you had long ago accepted it. 

But what could you do? You couldn’t make him confess, even when, for a second; for a moment, you didn’t think it would be wholly bad if he did.


	15. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a little bit disoriented?? Couldn’t really capture the mood as much as I wanted to but!! I wanted to flesh out the Reader’s thoughts/apprehension and delve a bit further into the relationship that the characters have with each other. As a heads up, the next few chapters are still going to be a build-up for when I get to plot #1 (ch. 18/19) and then we’ll focus onto plot #2 (ch. 20/21) after that, and then finale of Higher Love. 
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving weekend to those celebrating! 
> 
> Pls enjoy this chapter!

“Okay, this isn’t working.” You huffed, glaring at Sylvain from across the floor. 

“Glaring isn’t going to curse me,” he retorted.

“You could just stab him with a sword,” Felix chimed in. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He pushed himself off the pillar that he was leaning against and grabbed a spare sword from off the racks. Without being incited, he took a stance and immediately charged towards Sylvain. He moved swiftly and it was hard to stop him.

To begin with, Felix wasn’t even supposed to be here. 

You started your day early with Sylvain as part of your training regime. It was only supposed to be you and him, but somehow, Felix showed up. He hadn’t participated until now, but he never withheld from any criticisms. Not all towards you, either. He was vocal in criticizing Sylvain’s way of teaching you. Some of it also came with unnecessary comments like how Sylvain’s hair was messier than usual, or how his shirt was wrinkled. 

Which, of course it was, given the strenuous situation. 

He was being more provocative that usual, and while his wit was amusing, you didn’t know why he was behaving this way. Felix looked grumpy when he initially entered the hall and it only escalated since then. You couldn’t help but feel that he was being purposefully malicious towards Sylvain, even if his advice was somewhat helpful.

“That’s not the point, Felix!” Sylvain shouted, narrowly dodging Felix’s aim with his shield. “We’re trying to focus on magic, not physical!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong! All you need to do is defeat the opponent. Who cares about strategies if your strength is overpowering? A straightforward attack can easily get the job done!”

He swung his sword forward where wood clashed against steel. It was enough to create a loud scraping noise, and you saw as the wooden training sword laid a heavy mark against Sylvain’s shield. Sylvain grunted and pushed back, forcing Felix’s sword away and causing the both of them to break apart. He looked annoyed, but before things escalated further, Dimitri stepped in. 

“Let’s stay focused,” he said. “Felix, don’t interrupt unnecessarily. It’s Sylvain’s duty to teach her, not you.”

“Be that as it may, he sucks at teaching,” Felix retorted.

Your lips twitched. Dimitri was right. Felix was being distracting, and as much as you feared his wrath, you knew that Sylvain didn’t deserve the hostility.

“I’m fine, Felix,” you said, lowering his sword. You weren’t progressing as well as you hoped you would, but you were still committed to doing better. “It’s sweet that you care, but if I need your help, I’ll tag you in, yeah?”

“Sweet?” the three of them echoed—even Dimitri, whose shock was the most visible. 

His blue eyes went round and his mouth parted. An eyebrow was raised and you had a feeling that he was judging your mental state. Not that either Sylvain or Felix’s expressions fared any better. Sylvain’s face was warped up into a cringe while Felix just flat-out glared at you.

“I am not sweet.” 

“Sweet isn’t the word I’d use to describe him.” 

The response resulted in Felix glaring at Dimitri this time. He took a step forward, but Dimitri offered him a placating smile and pulled him back and off of the area of combat. 

“Carry on!” Dimitri threw over his shoulder, even though Felix was clearly annoyed at being stopped. He broke free from Dimitri’s grasp, scoffing disdainfully in the process, and distanced himself from your House Leader to brood by himself. 

It was you and Sylvain, once again, staring off at each other.

“Let’s continue?” he asked.

You nodded your head and opened up your book of tomes again. Sylvain had located you an intermediate copy from the library. He had already tested you on the beginner’s book, giving you a condensed, refresher course on it a few days ago. Currently, you were working on the intermediate spells which you hadn’t bothered to look at since before even you joined the academy. 

You took a moment to even out your breathing, and clear your mind to concentrate on the spells. You tried to recite them the same way that Annette or Mercedes would, but even though you were able to conjure them up, they were not as potent as you wanted them to be. The lightning spell fizzled out before it could reach Sylvain. 

“It’s not enough to just recite the spells,” Sylvain said. “You need to _stay_ focused in order to raise the potency.”

“It’s already a miracle that she can recite the words properly,” Felix quipped, from the side, unhelpfully.

Beginner spells were easier to recite and used ordinary speech, but the more advanced a spell was, the more complicated the language was. The strongest ones used an archaic language as they called upon the most ancient of sources. It wasn’t easy to recite the incantations properly, but you still tried!

You could handle Felix being snarky, but he was being unhelpful, and you sent him a frown. “You do it!” you snapped. 

Felix famously only focused on his sword-training skills. His magic was better than yours, but not by a very discernible degree. 

He looked taken aback by your upset expression, and refrained from making another unnecessary remark. He took the book from your grasp and took your place in front of Sylvain, while you returned to the sideline beside Dimitri, scoffing and folding your arms across your chest. You hadn’t been annoyed earlier, but you were now. Frustration started to creep in on you and you couldn’t help but frown even harder.

“All I’m saying is that there’s no need for her to focus on her defense if her strength is high enough to defeat the opponent,” he muttered. “Even if she could defend, it’ll be more tiring to exhaust the opponent and means little if she can’t get a hit in.” 

It was gentler than any of his previous comments and actually sounded reasonable.

You blinked, surprised at his switch in tone. Once again, you couldn’t understand his fickle moods. The switch in behaviour was strange, especially when you thought back to when you snuck out of the infirmary some while ago. Ingrid had told him to be nice to you, but it was strange to see him consciously making an effort to do so. 

“Is it just me, or is Felix actually being considerate?” you whispered to Dimitri.

“Only when it comes to you,” Dimitri replied, with a small smile.

You pulled back, not knowing how to answer. You averted your gaze from his seemingly all-knowing ones. Somehow, his blue eyes reminded you of Byleth’s in that moment. You felt like he was teasing you, given by how his smile grew, but it was hard to tell.

Did Dimitri even know how to make jokes? It was unlikely. Just to be sure, you briefly glanced his way and saw that his expression had returned to a neutral one. His attention returned back to the two boys sparring, as though his earlier remark was weightless.

Sylvain shook his head. “No, improving her defence is to ensure that she _survives_.”

“There’s no need to worry about that.” Felix immediately said. “It’s already fine if she has us.”

“We can’t be there all the time.”

“_You_ can’t, but _I_ will.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“That’s dependent on where you’re standing.”

Without warning, he set off a small spell. It was stronger than yours and actually reached Sylvain’s shield, but did not damage it much.

“Fine. It’s important to have a good amount of strength, but in the reverse, it means little if the opponent defeats her in a single hit. Having the proper amount of resistance will ensure that she can at least take _one_ hit.”

You frowned. Rude. That was insulting. You weren’t _that_ weak.

“So improve her speed and expand the area of attack,” Felix said, as though it were simple. “Here, I’ll show you—”

Even with using a basic training sword, Felix was flawless in his form. He moved swiftly once again, a sword in one hand; a tome in the other. Sylvain dodged, but, as Felix as said, he significantly expanded his area of attack. His footsteps were successive as were his strikes. 

Similar to how you had seem him do a few weeks ago, a plume of smoke rallied around his feet but not around his sword. He surged forward, attacking repeatedly in multiple directions. Sylvain was naturally forced to go on the defence. This time, it looked like he was equally as surprised as you were, and had to visibly exert effort to block Felix.

“You do realize that you just performed a magic spell, right? Rallies are still spells.”

“Fine, I’ll do it without magic.”

“No, we don’t need another—“

It was useless. Felix isn’t paying any attention. He tossed aside the book — which you eagerly caught — and focused entirely on his swordsmanship. Sylvain caught the sword with his gloved hand, just before it hit him in the shoulder.

“Why are you so against her learning how to defend herself?” Sylvain scowled.

“I’m not,” Felix said. “I simply find it hypocritical that it’s _you_, of all people, teaching her this. Given your history of taking advantage of her.”

“What do you want from me, Felix? I’m trying, aren’t I?”

“Your trying isn’t good enough!” he shouted. “Not when it’s wrapped in layers of deceit! You can’t even tell her the truth, can you?”

You didn’t understand what they were talking about. It sounded like they were talking about the training, but you felt as though there was more to it. Felix was a fickle person, and stubborn, but he wasn’t entirely unreasonable. His eyebrows furrowed heavily and his stance became more powerful, and you could sense the upset in his being.

“I—” 

Sylvain started, but Felix powerfully pulled back his sword. In his other hand, a small plume of smoke coated his fist. His diversion was successful. He brought his hand forward, fist pressing past Sylvain’s shield and breaking through his defense. Then, his hand stopped inches away from Sylvain’s face, though the magic spell was still in effect.

“You haven’t even tried, have you?” Sylvain froze. He opened his mouth to counter, but Felix glared even more. “Not seriously.”

Guiltily, he looked away. 

What was he hiding from you? You knew that Sylvain had secrets —who didn’t?— but what did they have to do with you? You were curious and wanted to know, and you made your way towards them.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, reminding them both that you were still here. 

“You...” Felix started; he seemed to have forgotten you entirely. And he averted his gaze. Sylvain grimaced and did the same, refusing to look at you. “Sylvain.” He said, nudging his head towards the taller boy. “He’s the one that told everyone you fell into the pond after running away from ghosts.”

“He what?!” 

He was the one who gave you that reputation?! Since the first week of school?! It stuck to you ever since and even newcomers had known about it! Even pipsqueaks smaller and younger than you looked at you strangely whenever you passed by them!

“It-it was one time!” Sylvain explained. “I didn’t think it would spread that much. It just—it slipped out!”

You couldn’t believe the betrayal. You didn’t even wait to hear the rest of explanation. You approached Felix, partially hiding him while he shielded you from Sylvain, but you kept your gaze locked onto the other boy as ferociously as you could. 

“Curse that boy, Felix.”

Sylvain’s mouth fell open as he deflated. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Felix’s lips curl into a smirk. 

“With pleasure.”

One hand caught yours, keeping you in place behind him, while his other curled in the direction of Sylvain. He recited the incantation swiftly and easily, as though he had memorized the spell since long ago. A large, powerful spell collected around his gloved hand and burst into a lightning shower in multiple directions. You gasped at the potency of it all; how did Felix know such a powerful spell? You couldn’t even be envious of his talent as you stared at the flickering balls of light that bounced in every direction, even when they singed and cut at Sylvain’s defences.

They curled around his frame in a large attack, but Sylvain countered with his own spell of fire. The impact of both spells hitting one another led to an immediate explosion, one that escaped to the roof of the training hall and left falling debris and smoke all around you. 

You coughed, caught amidst aftermath of the attack. Smoke stung at your eyes and you started to tear up. It was difficult to see through the screen of smoke, but your senses went on immediate alert. Something bad was coming your way.

Felix had released his hold on you during Sylvain’s attack and as quickly as you could, you made your way towards the exit. As soon as you neared the doors, you heard shouting from outside.

“It came from over here!” 

You cursed, and made yourself small, hiding behind the entryway, biding your time. It wasn’t your fault, but you knew that they would find some way to place the blame on you given your track record. You weren’t looking forward to it, and, as soon as the knights rushed in, you rushed out, silently muttering a good luck to the four stooges left behind.

Who told them to use such powerful attacks indoor? It was a rookie mistake! You knew better than that! 

Behind you, you heard them starting to lecture Sylvain and Felix, unaware that you were being followed. 

“They’re always so chaotic, even now, aren’t they?” It was Dimitri, and you jumped when he appeared by you so suddenly.

“Your Highness!” you gasped. Didn’t he know that it was rude to sneak up on people?! 

He laughed at your reaction, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Do you mind?” 

“What’s there to mind?” you shrugged, looking away from his bright eyes. You were surprised that he thought to escape as well. It definitely wasn’t noble of him to ditch his house mates, but it wasn’t like you had any room to judge. 

“I feel as though I make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not true at all,” you replied.

Despite being aware of your difference in status, Dimitri wasn’t terrible. You weren’t as close to him as you were with Ingrid or Sylvain or Felix, but that was also primarily because you didn’t have much in common with the young Prince. He did everything immaculately and flawlessly, while you couldn’t bother to do so. 

“That’s a relief,” he laughed again. “I was worried that I did something to offend you.”

“I think the only way that you’d genuinely offend me is if you threw me to the wolves like the many times that Sylvain has.” You paused here, contemplating. Then again, it wasn’t like Dimitri needed to stoop so low. Wasn’t it already a guarantee that you were willing to fight for him? By his side? As his friend? You didn’t think much of it beyond that, as you told him, “—You’d only need to ask, of course.”

“You would fight for me?” He sounded more surprised than he should have, but when you met his gaze, you could only find a soft appreciation in them. 

“W-well… I wouldn’t fight _well_, if that’s what you’re asking.” His smile was too sincere, and you shifted under his innocence. You changed the subject, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. Who were you, a pseudo-noble, to declare such a bold allegiance to a Prince? Dimitri didn’t even need your help, given that he had others —more stronger, smarter, noble— than yourself to aide him. “Do you know anything about Felix yelling at Sylvain recently?”

“Which one?” he asked, in a teasing tone. You frowned, and he placated your upset with another response. “From my understanding, it’s just Felix being protective.”

You felt as though there was more to it, but it didn’t look like he wanted to explain further. It was frustrating being kept in the dark, but what could you do? It wasn’t like you could shake the answer out of Dimitri. You could attempt to, but it would probably result in a heavy loss of even more brain cells on your part. 

You groaned up to the heavens, wondering why they were being so annoying. It made Dimitri laugh again, and you instinctively glared at him. He was truly enjoying your misery, wasn’t he?

“I don’t think it’s anything that you need to worry about,” he consoled. “Ingrid’s keeping them both in check. Sylvain and Felix will compromise sooner or later. If it becomes too serious, then I’ll step in once again. How did you find out about it?”

His words were reassuring, and you gave in. “Claude was being his annoying self.” 

“Ah, I’ve been there,” Dimitri said. “Claude is… a tricky character to deal with. It’s best to avoid him whenever possible.”

You snorted. Dimitri was too nice. The fact that he even made it a point of notice to be cautious around the other House Leader was much more endearing than it should have been. If even _Dimitri_ was wary of Claude, then how could _you_ not be? 

“I don’t like it when you guys fight with each other,” you admitted, after a moment. 

At least others knew immediately not to trust Claude. He wasn’t deceiving. In fact, it was the opposite. He was sly and cunning, and wore that like a badge of honour, and that badge served as a warning to others to not trust him. But it was this understanding alone that allowed his house mates to get along with each other. Because in spite of how deceptive he was, there was still a foundation of understanding. Their distance towards one another was a virtue in itself, and the same could have been said for the Black Eagles house.

You couldn’t help but feel sad when you thought to your own house. At least half of you had grown up together, but it seemed that the disconnect was growing more and more every day. Under the banner of friendship, you should have been closer and understood one another. And yet… The foundation of your house was flimsy at best, cracks in the walls; threads of fate tangled waywardly into one another, and the more that one tugged, the tighter the knot became.

Then again, you didn’t have a place to judge. After all… _That_ incident was a result of your own actions, wasn’t it?

“I don’t either,” Dimitri agreed, and for once, you heard a weariness in his voice when he normally stood confident and strong. 

“Dimitri…” you hesitated, but it was hard to blatantly ignore the dark bags under his eyes; the pallid tone of his skin; the lingering darkness in his eyes. “…I meant it when I said I would fight for you. We all would. You just need to say the word.”

His gaze softened. “Thank you. Your reputation really is awful… Where others call you a coward, but in truth… I think that you are one of the most bravest people.” 

“Me? Brave? Your Highness… It’s alright to call me a fool.”

“You never run away during a fight. Never when your friends need you. Isn’t that brave enough?”

You shook your head. “No… You’re wrong. I wasn’t there for Sylvain when he needed me.”

“But you came back, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes. I suppose you’re right. I came back.”

You would have, even if you didn’t need to. 

He smiled at you, and, feeling lighter, as though there was an innate understanding between the two of you, you returned one of your own. 

You just wanted him to know that even if Felix fought with Sylvain, or Felix disdained Dimitri himself, there was no denying the loyalty you had for him. Not because it was expected of you, but because you wanted to. 

“I should head back,” he suddenly said, stopping just before you turned the corner. 

“That’s a good idea. Someone should make sure that Felix and Sylvain don’t cause anymore trouble.”

Dimitri grimaced. It was in such a sincere way that you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You’re not coming?” he asked. 

“Oh, no…” You looked away, first rubbing the back of your neck and then your arm. “You see,” you didn’t want to—but how could you tell him that without him frowning at you? “—It seems that my wounds have opened up… Yeah, that’s right! I’m not in the greatest condition so… I should go rest up!”

You hoped you were convincing, but judging by the way that he looked at you, you knew that you weren’t. 

“Just this once,” he said, much to your surprise. You were too astonished to form a proper reply, and only caught a glimpse of his smile as he finally turned and started to walk away. 

“Stay well, your Highness!” you shouted from across the courtyard, gleefully as you turned around and continued in the opposite direction. 

Your fingers trailed along the stone walls of Garreg Mach Monastery. It was one of the rare times where you were wandering around the Monastery during the day, and you wanted to take in as much of the scenery as you could. The walls were warm to touch, having absorbed the warmth of the sun, and even the plants along the school had taken fancy to the stones. They climbed up the walls, growing even higher than even their own stations. 

Stray animals made the smaller bushes their homes, and you kept notice of any that might have crossed your path.

You followed with your gaze, as a stray cat peaked its head out from a bush, and then started to cross the path. It wandered off, and you finally spotted a familiar figure some feet away. 

“Catherine!” You didn’t know why you called out to her. It came impulsively, but it had caught her attention nonetheless. She stood rooted to her spot, at the end of the cobblestone path where it met grass. 

“Isn’t that bold even for you?” She frowned at you, her look intimidating. You couldn’t tell if she was jesting or not. 

“Oh, um…” You looked away, avoiding her gaze. “Ser Catherine!”

You deigned to look at her and saw her raised eyebrow, but there was a wry smirk on her lips. Nonetheless, she returned a greeting to you as well. 

“Something that I can help you with?” she asked.

“Oh, I, uh…” How were you going to explain to her that what you wanted to know was why she was talking to Sylvain? Without directly asking her about it? 

“Is it about the tournament?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“If that’s the case, then you’ve got my approval already. You’re a bit of a troublemaker, but your family has _that_ farm in the north-west of Faerghus, don’t they? Your sister was a spectacular pegasus knight herself. Shame that she ended up retiring to become some stuffy man’s wife.”

You frowned, and thought to your sister. She was married to an earnest, though lowly-titled man. He was endearing and always gave into her demands, as capricious as she was. You didn’t consider him stuffy, even if he was someone who had even less of a backbone than yourself. They got along well, and he was even nice to you, so you felt obligated to defend him.

“—You’re a bit of a coward too, from what I’ve heard,” Catherine continued. “I’ve never seen you in action before but they also say you’re the last one standing on the battlefield. But that’s hard to say given your most recent battle, isn’t it?”

You frowned harder. Wasn’t she just nitpicking at all your flaws?

Then she laughed. “Well, it doesn’t really matter much, I suppose. I’ve already given my consent to you joining the tournament, so you better do well!”

You tilted your head. “Why would you do that?”

“Huh? Didn’t you want to join?” she asked.

“I did, but… Between getting injured and all, I haven’t had time to ask anyone if they would permit me. Besides, none of the teachers here would vouch for me. Professor Hanneman criticizes me; I’d have to bribe Manuela; Jeritza is super scary…”

“Didn’t Seteth sign off for you too?” she asked.

“Since when?”

“You don’t know?” she seemed surprised. “I guess it makes sense, but I thought he spoke to you about it.” She caught your confused expression once more; “Sylvain. He’s been running around these past few days asking for teachers to sign off for you.”

“I… didn’t know that.”

“He didn’t mention it to you at all?”

You were just about to tell her that he didn’t. In fact, it was hard to find any time with him recently. He ran about busily, and even when you were recovering from your injuries, you hadn’t seen him. When you thought to his recently strange behaviour and his absence, you started to wonder if it had anything to do with you… Worst of all, you thought that he was doing too much. If he continued the way that he did, then you might—

“There you are!”

You turned around, your thoughts and words interrupted. Sylvain jogged towards you, grinning when he caught your attention. From the corner of your eye, you saw a mirthful smile creep onto Catherine’s face. He sent her a small greeting before he looked at you, worry overtaking his features. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Where does it hurt? Was I too rough earlier? Do you need Professor Manuela to check on you again?”

“Huh? Oh, I—“

“She ran away because she’s clearly tired of your lame teaching skills.”

It was Felix, once again showing up unexpectedly.

Catherine laughed at their bickering, seeming to catch onto the situation quicker than you. “Why bother competing for the prize when you’ve got these two to do it for you?”

Both boys looked at her in confusion, and you tried not to focus too much on her embarrassing words. How could you tell her that you had already tried, and they both rejected you terribly? It didn’t matter to her, anyway, because she quickly excused herself, chortling the entire way that she left. 

“I’m actually kind of hungry,” you said, changing the subject. 

“Oh, right,” Sylvain muttered. “I guess we were at it for a while, huh? We can go into the village. Briggs’ is always a good place.”

“Trust you to advocate for that disgusting place. Mathieu’s is much better than Briggs’.”

“Felix… You might be right about some things, but you’re clearly wrong when it comes to cuisine. You don’t _eat_ your food. You _inhale_ it.”

You felt a headache coming, and before Felix could counter, you spoke up. “Let’s eat at Amelie’s.”

“That’s even worse,” they both agreed in unison.

You stared at them. It was the only thing that they had agreed on all day, and it was at your expense. You quite liked Amelie’s. Her inn wasn’t as fancy as either Briggs’ or Mathieu’s, but was cozy and comfortable. You never had to put on any airs of pretence. 

Refusing to get involved, you threw your hands into the air. From across the path, you caught sight of Ferdinand speaking with another Black Eagles student. 

“If you guys don’t decide, I’m going to ask Ferdinand to eat with me,” you threatened, marching off before you could see either of their expressions. Which, you couldn’t imagine was very happy, but at least they had stopped arguing. They followed behind you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Ingrid felt whenever she had to babysit your group. 

At that moment, a breeze fluttered past, coming from the north winds. Another bout of silence consumed you, even though Sylvain and Felix were still discreetly bickering behind you. For some reason, you felt regretful of the wind, its breeze chilly despite still being in the midst of summer.


	16. Obligations

A few days later found you at the stables. Professor Byleth assigned you to stable duty with Felix this week, but every time you so much as attempted to do _anything_, he scowled at you. He even hissed at you once, but most of the time, he settled for glaring at you. When he finally had enough and you refused to sit still, he completely took over, all-but shoving you to the side and forcing you to stay out of the way and seated atop the haystacks. 

“Felix…” you bemoaned. “Are you really not going to let me do _anything_?” 

Between the both of you, you were certain that your labour skills were much better than his. 

“Just sit there and shut up,” he scowled, moving here and there swiftly to ensure that the horses were well-kept. 

Ever since you had gotten injured, whenever you were in the presence of Felix, he didn’t let you exert any amount of strength. On a regular basis, you might have rejoiced in not having to do anything. Hilda certainly would have taken advantage of it if she didn’t make it happen herself, but you were getting bored—and, with a shudder, you loathed to admit that Felix could actually be overbearing. It was not a word that you would have used to describe him _ever_, but he was worse than even your parents. 

He wasn’t paying you any attention. You looked off, scanning your surroundings. There were a few people around, but most of them were other students and a few knights but no one that you were too familiar with. It was a good sign. None of them would immediately snitch on you, as you considered your escape route.

“If you sneak off, Byleth will know that you used sleeping bait on the fish which is why he hadn’t caught any the other day.”

“W-w-what do you mean, sneak off!” you sputtered. “I would never!”

You settled your bottom back into the straws and folded your hands into your lap, the image of a proper and upright student. He raised an eyebrow at you and you challenged him back pompously. Felix actually rolled his eyes at you. You gasped indignantly but when he turned that roll of his eyes into a fierce glare, you immediately cowered. 

He went back to his work, and you picked at the straws sticking from the haystacks. So what if you used bait infused with sleep magic? Didn’t they want you to practice your magic to begin with? Didn’t they all eat the fish that you ended up netting? It wasn’t your fault that you were a genius. Who told Professor Byleth to sit there all afternoon hoping to catch a fish? He could have easily borrowed a net.

“Felix,” you groaned loudly, after a few minutes had passed with him ignoring you. You flopped onto your back. The straws dug uncomfortably into your skin, and you plucked them away. He immediately came out of the stables to stare you. “I’m bored.”

This was worse than being grounded! You were too old for a baby sitter, least of all, one as crude as Felix! You hadn’t snuck off campus for a whole week! And you went to your classes every day for the past month! It was agonizing being a good student.

“Do your homework.”

You looked at the empty space around you, then at Felix whose eyes met yours. He noticed the lack of belongings with you, and quickly understood. 

“Just save your energy for when we’re on a mission,” he said. 

“…I’m not sure if it works like that, Felix.” 

Missions only came once a month. Anything before that was unexpected and typically didn’t involve you or any of the other students who were, in comparison to the official knights and soldiers, less experienced than your superiors. Even if you had a mission coming up, you only typically only needed to reserve your energy for a few days prior. 

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure entering the grounds. Saviour! A friend! _Finally_! Someone to talk to! You quickly hopped off your seat and rushed towards her. Felix whirled around immediately.

“Don’t you have stable duties to finish up?” you reminded innocently, escaping before he could catch you. It was his fault for not letting you do anything. It wasn’t considered dumping your duties on him! 

Ever since that day at the library, you hadn’t interacted with Whitney. You saw her around a few times, but with everything that had gone on recently, you hadn’t been able to converse with her. From your last encounter, she had left a good impression on you, and you didn’t mind getting to know her better. Now was the perfect opportunity, and you merrily made your way towards her. 

She looked around, confusion and uncertainty laced in her expression. When she spotted you, her eyes went wide but she actually looked relieved.

“Do you need help with anything?” you asked her. 

She hesitated, and looked away. “…I was assigned stable duty for my house.”

“Where’s your partner?”

She shrugged helplessly. “Hilda? Apparently she’s not feeling too well.”

You snorted. Yeah, that sounded just about Hilda. 

“Is this your first time?”

“Y-yes… I was told what to do, but… I don’t have much experience with the horses, myself.”

You didn’t know if you understood the sentiment given that you had been around animals your entire life, but you knew how scary it was to try something for the first time. You sent her a reassuring smile, and offered to show her the ropes. 

“The first rule is that Hilda schemes,” you told her. “She’ll try to weasel her way out of anything that requires her presence. If you’re ever partnered up with her again, you can tell her that you know how to get Ignatz to stop listening to her.”

“What does Ignatz have anything to do with this?”

“He’s basically her personal servant,” you replied, recalling the many times that Ignatz had done her favours even if it was inconvenient. 

He was too kind for his own good, and Hilda took advantage of it. He claimed that he didn’t mind given that Hilda was his classmate and her excuses must have had some truth to them. You didn’t know the full extent of their relationship, but the few times that you received assistance from him, Hilda had gotten upset with you. You had to bribe her with some new perfume satchels to appease her sour moods with you. 

He saw her as the sun, a fragile young miss who could never truly did any harm, but you knew better. A few weeks ago, Ignatz lost his sketchbook. He was shy about his art, and fretted over any embarrassment that might have resulted from others seeing his work. He spent an entire evening searching for it to no avail.

He didn’t know, but Hilda had found it and kept it since. When you last spoke to him a few days ago, he had started on a new sketchbook, and admitted that he hoped that no one he knew found it. 

You didn’t know why she kept it, but you knew that Ignatz both valued it very much and was painfully shy about others seeing his work. 

“Well, anyway,” you said, leading her further down the stalls. “The next rule is that you’ll want to avoid the Ferghana and Nisean breeds. They are notoriously fickle breeds and even trained knights struggle to tame them. Leave them to the more experienced groomers.

Aside from these two rules, there’s not much that you really need to abide by, other than what you were told before. Our duties are typically limited to grooming and feeding them. There’s no need to take them out for rides as the regular stable keepers should have already done that, and you’d have to sign off on taking them out for rides.”

You reached the stalls where the horses for the golden deer house were kept. 

“It’s a lot easier once you familiarize yourself with the horses,” you said, and took a sugar cube out from your pouch. “Don’t rush it. Take your time building trust between you and the horses. When you’re first getting acquainted, it might take a while before they’ll let you brush them, and even longer for them to let you bathe them. You’ll probably have to just sit and play with them a while before they’ll let you actually groom them.”

The horse nickered, immediately accepting your treat. You knew all of the horses well, and they were already familiar with you. 

Whitney remained standing at the entrance of the stall, still looking unsure of herself. You took the pouch of treats hanging form your waist and tossed it towards her. She caught it clumsily, but when you nudged your head back to the horse, she finally mimicked your previous actions. 

The horse sniffed her hand for a moment, hesitant to accept the treat, but when you patted him on the head, he accepted. 

“You must have a lot of experience with stable duty,” she said.

“My family has a farm. I spent most of my childhood there, even more than at my family’s actual home. It’s only normal for most people to not know how to care for strong animals like these horses. You should have seen Sylvain—“ you cut yourself off when you realized your mistake. She gave you a small smile, which you took it as a reassurance to continue. “…We —Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain, Dimitri, and I— grew up together. My father was a riding instructor in the capital, so he taught us all how to ride. Sylvain… He wasn’t bad at riding, but the horses always hated him. It would always take him weeks before he could earn their trust.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Especially the male horses. They absolutely hated Sylvain, while the female ones blatantly ignored him. They always gave him a difficult time, and more than once, you had to help coax them out of their stables. 

Whitney tried to picture a struggling Sylvain, but her expression said it all: she was disbelieving of the idea. 

“How is… Sylvain recently?” she asked. She sounded hesitant, which you couldn’t blame her for. She must have felt just as awkward as you when it came to him.

Sylvain was… as elusive as ever. It was rare to find him these days, but you couldn’t entirely blame him. Everyone had been incredibly busy, running around here and there. A few weeks ago came another incident, involving Lord Lonato, Ashe’s adopted father, and a member of nobility from the Faerghus kingdom. Coming off the cusp of his apparent betrayal left everyone in a stupor, and in only a few more weeks was the Goddess’ Rites of Rebirth. It was natural for everyone to be busy, though you did lament the fact that Sylvain, for some odd reason, seemed even busier than most. 

Even after all this time… As you glanced at Whitney, although she didn’t say it aloud, you suspected that her feelings for Sylvain were still just as strong.

“Sylvain is… doing his best,” you concluded. It was probably the best way to describe his current situation. Although you did not see much of him recently, he wasn’t getting into any trouble either. You knew because Professor Byleth would have brought up any of his slack. As it stood, he did not, and you could only assume that he was working hard at whatever task he was doing. 

Whitney did not ask you any further about him, which you were thankful for. It felt unnecessary to divulge her information about him, especially when you didn’t know firsthand what he was up to. 

As you suspected, Whitney was not as difficult as Sylvain made her out to be. She quickly understood that you did not want to pursue the topic of Sylvain, and shifted the conversation to more mundane topics. You could tell that she still had reservations against you, but you didn’t blame her. 

You settled on the floor, sitting against a pillar while you both waited for the horse to grow accustomed to her. It was easy to lose track of time, like this. Even when Felix entered the stable, you did not immediately notice him. It was Whitney who spotted him first, losing track of her sentence as her eyes landed on him. In return, he paid her no attention. He ignored her completely as he shadowed over you.

“Let’s go,” he said. 

You stayed seated. “We have to work on your people skills, Felix.”

“My people skills are fine,” he rebutted. His eyes scanned the stable, where Whitney was carefully brushing through the horse’s hair. He still made no attempt to greet her. “Are you done here?”

You glanced back at Whitney. “You’ll be okay here?” 

She nodded her head. “Yes, thank you for the help.”

You offered her a small smile, before you pushed yourself up, only noticing Felix’s outstretched hand when you were already standing. He scowled, but did not say anything as he left the stable first. Whitney sent you an inquisitive glance, but you shrugged before waving at her, and started to jog after Felix. 

“Are you hungry?” you asked, peering at him. “Wanna get something to eat?”

He didn’t respond. You frowned at him. Why was he ignoring you this time? You were becoming irritated at his fickle moods, and wanted to know what was wrong with him.

“So do you feel like telling me why you’ve been in such a bad mood recently? Surely it’s not about the Lonato thing…”

There was no response, but you could see his mouth twisting, opening and closing after a few seconds. 

For a moment, you thought that he looked conflicted. His expression screwed. His initially unpleasant face shifted between a neutral one and flaring into irritation; flickering between two different moods so tangibly that you found yourself worrying for his well-being more than his response.

When his eyes landed on you, though his eyebrows were heavily furrowed, slanted against the shadows of his eyes, the concern was the most visible.

“You… are frustrating,” he finally responded.

“_Me_? Frustrating?” you were indignant. “Felix, I have done nothing wrong to you.”

“Yes, frustrating!” he repeated, his anger flaring even more. You knew that you should have held your tongue, but you were truly innocent. 

“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

“It’s the fact that you didn’t do anything!” What was that supposed to mean? You didn’t get it. “What are you going to do?” he pressed, his voice lowering a notch. “When war comes, what will you do? Will you fight or will you run?”

You hesitated. Was that what he was upset about? Ever since the incident with Lonato, there were talks of civil unrest within the kingdom. He was the first to set off dominoes, as investigations within the capital were known. 

In truth, you knew just how stressed everyone was. It was why you decided to not cause any trouble; to attend your classes and duties properly. It was why you didn’t complain when you had to train even when you were sore and tired. 

You weren’t anything special. Perhaps everyone had noticed the shift in the air, the looming threat of war. Garreg Mach Academy had a discernibly different atmosphere to it. Gloomy, in a way. In only a few short weeks did the aura of the grand academy shift into one rightful of a monastery, a sanctuary for people to ruminate on their fates.

Like an overnight storm. There were still so many questions unanswered, and everyone was working hard to attain the answers. 

“I… don’t know, but… I don’t think I will run.” 

You weren’t fit to fight. These days, you worried over your own state of being. If anyone asked you to fight, you would. You trained for it, after all. You worried if you were even good at it, or if you would be a nuisance, deadweight for your peers and comrades to carry.

However, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your friends when they needed you.

“That’s why you’re a fool! War is not your obligation; running to your death would be the only result.” He suddenly stopped here, cutting himself off for a moment. Then, his voice lowered once again. “The safest place on the battlefield is where the General is,” he said, so quietly that you thought you were imagining things. “No one would let that spot go unguarded. Have you ever thought about it?”

You knew what he was implying, but it didn’t feel right. 

You certainly weren’t strong, but you also had your own pride. You didn’t want to rely on him — or anyone else — to protect you, especially when a single second could determine the outcome of the battle.

“I… don’t think about it at all,” you admitted, looking away.

“Maybe you should,” he said, glaring at you this time. “Maybe you should think about it.”

“Don’t you hate weak people? I’m fairly certain that running away or clinging onto someone for help constitutes as weak, by your typical definition.” It was a half-hearted statement, meant to tease him, to break the tension in the air a bit. 

But he did not take the bait. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting. It came so suddenly and out of the blue. Not only the words in itself, but the tone in which he said them with. So quietly and so gentle, which was unlike his typically blunt nature. Yet it was in his forthright nature that you knew his words were utterly sincere. 

“What I hate the most are unnecessary deaths.”

He walked away, leaving you to process his words. Unlike before, you didn’t follow after him this time. You simply did not know how to respond.


	17. An Honest Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Happy new year, everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. Please have a safe and wonderful 2021, and may you all prosper in this upcoming year and going forward. 💕
> 
> Next chapter should be out soon, as well as the return of our beloved redhead. 🌚

You tried to search for Sylvain all morning, but he was impossible to locate. It seemed to be the case recently, and, after half an hour of running around, you gave up. 

At least there were others willing to help you—more consistent in their attendance and advice. Byleth was patient in training you, and if he was busy, then Dimitri and Ingrid took his place. Felix had even volunteered to assist you a few times, and you even foolishly accepted once or twice until you decided that the day-after fatigue was not worth it. You made a mental note to not train with him again for the next few weeks. 

In spite of the many assistance that you received, Sylvain’s absence was severely noted. The people might have been different, but his blueprint still remained. The itinerary that he set for you was shared with your helpers, easy enough to consume, but meticulous on the overall detail. 

Sans, of course, Felix, who decided on his own strategies. 

He wasn’t entirely wrong in his approach, even if it took you a bit of adjusting. His brute-strength over defence actually helped you to raise your offensive abilities.

It was unfair to blame Sylvain. Everyone had been running around recently, trying to clean up the mess left behind by Lonato and others. Yet still, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed at him as you swung the door to your dorm open with much more force than usual. The tournament was coming up, and you wanted to be as prepared as possible. Sylvain had promised that he would help you — and, granted, he was in a way — but you disliked how difficult it was to locate him. Sure, you saw him during formal lessons, but he almost always ran off afterwards and you did not know why.

You huffed in frustration as you marched into your room, only to freeze in your tracks as the door swung open to reveal a wild Felix sitting on the floor at the side of your bed frame. 

The next day after your conversation at the stables, Felix had resumed with his usual self. You thought long and hard over his questions that night, but in the end, still decided that you did not want to run away from war. Or anything, really. Not again. 

But the next day that you had seen him, Felix did not bring up the subject, and neither did you. It didn’t feel necessary to do so, and you didn’t want to ruin the mood given that he seemed calmer around you. As though he had finally released his frustrations with that single conversation. 

Felix was like that: hot-tempered one moment, but after he said what he wanted to said, he no longer held it within his heart. 

“Shut the door, will you?” He glared at you sharply, but you were immune to his foul moods by now.

You did as instructed, though secretly, you were wondering how to approach him. Felix might have worn his heart on his sleeve and gotten away with a direct approach, but you were more tactful than him. You thought of how to word your curiosity, gnawing on your lower lip as you contemplated your approach. 

You tossed your book bag to the corner of your room and settled on your bed, on your stomach as you peered over his shoulder. He was reading a book — which was another surprise in itself. You couldn’t remember the last time that you had seen Felix reading a novel that wasn’t related to swordsmanship or combat. 

And then it hit you— 

“Hey, isn’t that mine?” Technically, it was Sylvain’s, but you were certain that Felix didn’t know that. He flipped the page, but you stopped him. He had gotten much further ahead of you, and you didn’t want to be spoiled. “Go back! You didn’t lose my bookmark, did you? _Go back_!” 

From over his shoulder, you scrambled to find the place you had previously marked. Felix wrestled the book away from your grimy hands, all-but-shoving a hand into your face to stop you as he pulled away.

“Relax!” he scowled. “I didn’t lose your spot!”

“You couldn’t have gotten that far so quickly, right?” 

He settled back against the frame, restarting from the page you had saved. You pulled a pillow under your arms as you happily resumed reading from over his shoulder.

“Of course not.” He rolled his eyes. “I just started from where you left off.”

It sounded exactly typical of him, and you frowned. “You better not spoil it for me.”

He rolled his eyes, but actually compiled as he restarted from your bookmark. He was an impatient reader, skimming through paragraphs quickly, while you hung onto every word written instead. When he moved to turn the page, you immediately shoved his hand away. 

It happened a few times before he finally gave in and settled on being your book holder instead. 

A comfortable silence washed over the both of you, with the afternoon sun casting a golden hue over your room through open windows. It wasn’t exactly a free day, but recently, classes were abnormal. Your schedules were often interrupted as staff meetings became more and more impromptu. The professors relayed lessons for you to self-study as a result. 

Felix had been good-natured thus far, and, seeing that he actually seemed more docile today, you daringly said, “I saw your dad earlier.”

Rodrigue had come to the school unexpectedly. You ran into him in the Knight’s Hall earlier. He was speaking with Dimitri when you saw them. You didn’t want to intrude, but Rodrigue had spotted you and called you over before you could make your escape. 

“Damn,” Felix cursed, underneath his breath. “How’d he look?” Felix asked, only to shake his head. “Actually, forget I asked. I don’t care. What did he want? Why is he at the school?”

He wasn’t a very good liar. You knew by the lack of surprise in his voice. 

“Don’t you already know the answer yourself?” you asked, which promptly earned you a glare. 

Wasn’t it obvious? According to him, Rodrigue was here on official business. But he was also a father—and a father who wanted to see his son, most of all. 

He hesitated for a moment, his mouth falling open and close; eyebrows furrowing only to soften—conflict within his eyes. Then he hesitated some more, before he finally tossed aside the book halfway across the room. You didn’t know how he was going to react, but you brought a hand forward, and squeezed his shoulder. It seemed him to remind him of your presence—that you were still beside him—and even though he was radiating with barely controlled fury, he was still in control of himself. 

“The nerve of that man—“ Felix said, through gritted teeth, as he glared at the spot where the book landed. “I just—I don’t understand him at all. I _refuse_ to understand him.”

“I know,” you said, offering him another squeeze. 

The relationship between the both of them was complicated. More than you could even try to understand. There wasn’t a right or wrong in this case, for both Rodrigue and Felix had their flaws. You didn’t want to posture in front of him—you couldn’t, to begin with. Because feelings were complicated, especially between two people who loved each other dearly, but couldn’t express it very well.

“I just don’t understand how he can look at Glenn’s death as nothing more than contribution to honour for the Fraldarius name,” Felix snarled. 

His hands curled into fists by his sides, shaking for a multitude of reasons. You snaked your hand down his shoulder to curl around his fist, prying his fingers loose as he sucked in a deep breath. His throat tightened, jaw tensing from the effort of exerting control over himself, but he was trying—he was trying hard, and so, you were unafraid. 

“—Even _you_ mourned more than my own father,” he concluded, in a whisper. 

Glenn’s death was… a difficult time. You could not say if you mourned more than Rodrigue because you were not with him all the time, and though it was probably unfair to judge him, it was still how Felix perceived the situation. 

Thinking back on him, your hand over Felix’s loosened as you pulled away, rolling onto your back to stare up at your ceiling before you glanced out your window. 

Before you met any of the Blue Lions members —before you became acquainted with your liege Dimitri; your best friend Ingrid; or even Felix and Sylvain— you had known Glenn first. He attended school with your older sister, even if he was a few grades below than her. But he had known about your family’s farm, and your sister’s reputation as a talented rider, so he sought her tutelage in riding. It was how you first met Glenn; you were in awe of his his swordsmanship and followed him around to get him to teach you some tricks. 

You clung to him like an older brother, and even if he was very similar to how Felix was now, Glenn was charming in his own unique way. 

One day, he brought his little brother along, and introduced you to Felix. Felix, who hid behind his older brother’s back, and clung to his side shyly. Thinking back on it, you had already known each other for so long… 

To you, they were like family. And so, when Glenn did, you were also very sad. 

But you didn’t want to think about it. It was too heartbreaking to remember, and you shook away the thought.

“You used to be such a cute kid,” you said, changing the subject. 

Back then, Felix actually used to play with you just because. You used to chase each other around the fields—in the sky—on horseback and on foot. There was even a time where you made him cry, once, because according to him, you were being mean, and you recalled the story back to Felix. 

“You did not!” he immediately protested, indignant at the reminder. 

You chortled at the denial. “I did! Sylvain can support my claim!” 

“That’s because Sylvain would do anything you said!”

“—Ingrid was also there!” The comment about Sylvain nearly flew over you, and you tilted your head. “…You really think that?”

His mouth fell open, and, for some reason, he seemed annoyed all over again. “Isn’t it obvious?”

It clearly wasn’t, given how he had been missing in action recently. 

But Felix didn’t explain any further, and you didn’t want to ask him to.

“You know,” he said, ignoring the subject entirely. “You met me first.”

“Of course.”

“These days, you’re closer to Ingrid and Sylvain,” he continued, looking away.

Was he jealous? You couldn’t believe it. It sounded like he was, but his expression remained unmoving; even his tone was even. It was hard to tell, but for some reason, you were beyond happy. You peered over his shoulder, forgetting about personal space as you practically your face into his.

“Does it upset you?” you teased. “Maybe you should be nicer to me. I’m a very forgiving person, you know. Effort goes a long way.”

Was that… Was that a blush on his cheeks? You started to laugh, and just as Felix glared at you, a knock resounded on your door. 

From the opposite side, your name was called. 

“Y-yes?” you stuttered, as Felix cursed under his breath once again. You immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “S-sorry, Rodrigue! I can’t get to the door right now, but what brings you here?”

“I apologize if I’ve come at an inconvenient time,” he said. “We just hadn’t gotten a chance to speak much earlier, but I wanted to inquire you about Felix.”

“What about him?” you asked, glancing at Felix. 

You didn’t know that he was currently considering jumping out of the window. 

“I wanted to ask you how he was doing,” Rodrigue replied. “Actually… I wanted to ask if you happen to know where he is. He seems to be avoiding me…”

You watched him again. Felix’s expression was warning, as if to tell you not to rat him out.

But he didn’t need to do so. You already knew how to respond.

“No, I haven’t seen him all day, actually.” To be more convincing, you offered, “Have you tried the training grounds? He’s typically there.”

Upon ousting his domain, Felix glared at you. 

“Or maybe the pier?” you continued. “There’s a field near there, towards the west exit, where some wild animals run around. A lot of strays take refuge there, and Felix has taken quite the fancy to them.”

“Oh, is that so?” Rodrigue sounded disbelieving, but it wasn’t like he could interrogate otherwise. “Perhaps that is a good idea. Thank you for the information. I considered the training grounds, but hadn’t considered the fields…” 

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything else. His silence set Felix on edge, judging by his tense posture. You saw the hard set of his eyes and the clenching of his jawline. A moment longer, and you were certain that he was going to combust.

A third squeeze, then, bringing him back to reality, making him deflate otherwise as the tension dissipated from his body. He closed his eyes, and eased into your hand.

“—Perhaps it is presumptuous of me to say, but, please, do look after Felix for me,” Rodrigue suddenly continued from beyond the door. “I know that he can be crass and hard-headed sometimes, which might steer away any potential allies, but that is no way for him to live. And, for what it’s worth, Felix has always held you in high regards. I am certain of this.”

You stared as Felix grimaced. You could hear the unsaid curses, but, for some reason, it brought a smile to your lips.

“I will,” you replied back. Even without Rodrigue requesting you to do so…

Finally, Rodrigue left, and when he did, Felix scowled visibly. “What is that man thinking,” he muttered, but you didn’t care.

For some reason, you felt tired, as your hand wrapped around his shoulder from one end to the other. Your forehead touched his shoulder, and you exhaled. 

“Tired?” Felix asked.

You nodded your head. You couldn’t imagine not speaking to your parents. It was a luxury you knew you had, and to witness the opposite from Felix and Rodrigue made you sad. 

But you didn’t dare admit it aloud.

You didn’t need to.

“Sometimes, I think it would have been best if you didn’t meet us at all,” Felix suddenly said, so quietly that you thought you misheard.

“Why would you say that?”

He swallowed hard. “—Because look at us. All messed up people. Pieces of pieces. Some of us are barely even human, but you—Gods, _you_—you don’t even realize the effect that you hold on others, do you? And it’s not just me who thinks this. Ask Ingrid, and she’ll tell you the same thing.”

He was angry half the time; barely tolerable the other half. His hand shook by his side, and sometimes, he really wanted to break things, lose himself in an intolerable fit of rage if he didn’t control himself. Throw a huge tantrum, and tell everyone off more than he already did. How Dimitri was a damned fool; how Ingrid needed to assert herself more; how Sylvain needed to be more honest; and for himself? 

He knew that deep down, he needed to acknowledge what was in front of him before it was too late.

“It’s so easy to like you,” Felix continued. “—More than we should. Probably more than we deserve, but Gods, I’ll be damned if anyone ever hurt you again. Anyone. No matter if it was Glenn or Miklan, or the indifferent Gods we’re supposed to believe in—“

It was why… Probably more than he should have… He didn’t want you to fight. Anyone could, but not you. 

“Death doesn’t mean shit,” he said, and you saw the pain in his eyes—the rage—the sorrow—coming to surface behind his visage of typical confidence. “Glenn was a damned good man before he died, and he should have been celebrated for his being—not for dying for honour.”

You knew.

“I just—“ he gasped, shaking uncontrollably as his voice lowered into a whisper. “—I don’t understand why he had to die.”

You knew.

You hugged him even tighter, from behind—and this time, Felix eased into your touch. He leaned back, tilting his head upwards as he stared off into the ceiling—and said nothing else.

“You… are a damned good person,” Felix concluded, and you almost wanted to laugh because you weren’t. You weren’t as good of a person as he—or anyone else—assumed you were. “You know, you actually beat me in combat once.”

Did that happen? You couldn’t recall. 

But Felix explained it so simply: it was so long ago, that it was on wonder you had forgotten. You were only kids at the time, sparring with one another under Glenn’s supervision. One of the first times that you had trained together when you knocked him onto his back as you head butted him. It was a dirty move, but it was the first and last time you had beat him.

Then you hopped off of him and ran towards Glenn happily, bragging about your win. 

“How come you remember, but I don’t?” It wasn’t like anyone would believe you, but it sounded like a nice memory.

“…A knight never forgets his first defeat.”

Was that true? You didn’t know, but somehow, it made you smile anyway. At the time, hadn’t you all wanted to become great knights of Faerghus? To don the armour designating your nobility and honour. How grand and glorious it was at the time; what a wonderful dream it was….

When you mentioned it to him, he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It’s not my dream anymore.”

“Then what is your dream, Felix?”

“Who knows?” he answered, but before you could respond, he continued, “But I know that this isn’t what I want.”

Through and through, he was still hopeful for a better future. 

You smiled into his shoulder, realizing that perhaps, you were worrying for nothing. It was in Felix’s nature to think this way. He was a lone wolf, but sturdy and stable, walking his path bravely and without any uncertainties. Even if he made mistakes along the way, he would continue to stand firm in his convictions and never waver. 

“…How long are you going to keep hugging me?” he asked, after a while.

You hummed unintelligibly, too lazy to respond properly. Felix smelled like the metals from the workshop, but also like the pine of trees that surrounded the forest. He smelled entirely of the earth, especially after refreshed after a night of rain. You had never noticed it until now, but it wasn’t awful. 

“…Answer me,” he continued, and you rolled your eyes.

“This is my room,” you replied, as though it were reason enough. Which it technically was. He was in your space, where you had offered him reprieve. You were allowed to hug him if you wanted to.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“It means that you’re not allowed to complain that I’m using you as my pillow.” He shifted, and you really shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Has anyone told you that you smell good, Felix?”

“That’s creepy,” he said. It was brief, but you thought that you felt his neck warm up. Just as you moved to take a look, he said, “Lucius dies in the end, by the way.”

“He _what_?!” 

You effectively released Felix as your eyes went wide in disbelief. Lucius was a character from the book you were reading—one of the main characters, but not the protagonist. He was marred by a rough childhood but persevered continuously to become great, and you really, _really_ wanted for his character to succeed.

You shoved Felix away from you, and climbed off your bed to retrieve the wayward book. 

“You’re the worst!”


End file.
